Setting Up For Something
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Prompt based on the unfinished conversation between Castle & Beckett in the isolation tent during 3x16: 'Setup'. "… I wish that I had someone who would be there for me, and I could be there for him, and we could just dive in to it together," she says wistfully." What might have happened next it they hadn't been interrupted... COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1 Just For Starters

Disclaimer: Some of the original script from the ABC Castle episode 'Setup' has been used in this story. No copyright infringement is intended. No financial gain is being made.

* * *

_A/N: This was a prompt given to me by Corlando: What if Castle wasn't interrupted when he and Kate were sitting in the isolation tent in 'Setup' and she talked about the kind of relationship she was looking for, the kind of guy she wanted. How would the conversation have gone?_

_I've put the original script in italics to differentiate it from my own dialogue._

* * *

**Setting Up For Something**

_Chapter 1: Just For Starters_

They're trapped inside a containment tent. Quarantined, while the risk that they have been exposed to dangerously high levels of radiation is investigated.

Castle and Beckett were out on a case, searching a storage unit when Beckett's radiation-monitor went off in front of a crate full of guns and C4 plastic explosive, maxing out at the most extreme end of the exposure scale. She called in the threat immediately, screamed for him to run, and before he knew it they were being separated by some pretty unpleasant guys dressed in hazmat suits. He was kept in the dark as to his partner's whereabouts despite screaming at these mute morons to tell him what was going on.

It's been a tough few days, watching Beckett leave the room to take personal calls, something she never does, then watching Josh drift in and out of the Precinct for some quiet, cozy little chat with his partner, catching him kiss her on the head before he left, in a gesture that twisted in his gut like a knife. A scene that seemed so intimate it was almost as if he'd just witnessed them making love.

The very thought makes him sick with jealousy and rife with concern for her. Because he can sense that there's something going on with them, some issue that she doesn't want to share.

And now this…

* * *

Eventually, he found himself being dragged unceremoniously down a long polytunnel by a couple of burly guys in orange space suits. No one would answer any of his questions, and then he was thrown in through the zipper door of this flimsy excuse for a temporary structure. It has a zipper for a door for Christ sake, he thinks angrily. How the hell is that supposed to protect the outside world from radiation sickness? Alexis made forts in the loft out of stronger materials than this when she was ten. If this is any indication of how well the US Government is prepared for a nuclear attack, they are all doomed.

So now he's cold and he's pissed, and he's just been shoved inside this giant wigwam, and he wants someone to blame.

He spins around, and there, on the far side of the tent, is his beautiful partner, looking serene, calm, but definitely troubled.

The bluish-white glow in the isolation tent make them look half frozen, paints their skin an unnatural, unattractive grey color, which is prescient in itself, though he doesn't know this yet. The air is cold, they keep their coats on and Castle paces restlessly, unzipping the little plastic window on this outsize, government sponsored play house to watch what's happening on the outside, while Kate sits on one of the two hard, metal benches positioned facing one another at the far end of the pointlessly large space.

He's too busy fretting to notice, but his partner clearly has more on her mind than radiation sickness.

* * *

"_It's a bomb. It's a nuclear bomb in that locker," Castle declares, beginning to pace the floor._

"_Castle, we don't know that it's a bomb," soothes Beckett, sounding more than a little exhausted or maybe just jaded by his crazy theories, he's not quite sure which._

"_Well, we will as soon as it goes off in that nanosecond before we're vaporized. I'm sorry. It's just the…the writer in me going to worst case scenario," he explains, by way of an apology for freaking out._

"_Can we just talk about something else?" she asks, looking world-weary and clearly trying to keep her own freak-out hidden below the surface._

_Castle comes over to sit down._

"_Yeah. How's Josh?" he asks, a little meanly if he's honest._

Every time he thinks about them together, which he really tries not to do, it makes him mad - at Josh, at Kate, but mostly at himself. His pathetic, cowardly, ineffective self.

They kissed a few weeks ago, and okay, so maybe, maybe it was an undercover ruse to throw a goon off their trail. But he swears he can still taste her, he can still feel the second his lips connected with hers, the jolt of electricity he felt. God it was amazing. He'd prepared himself for her to take him out when he grabbed the moment by the horns and went for it. Only she didn't. She looked stunned when they first pulled apart, her mouth so bruised and wanton, her eyes hooded by the pull of lust, and then she just lunged for him, dragged him into the hottest kiss he can remember in a long time. And now all he _can_ do is remember that moment – her hungry mouth on his, her hands in his hair, his hands in _her_ hair, and all while this thug with a gun was standing watching them.

Hottest. Kiss. Ever.

But then they did their usual dance – they never talked about it. He knows he didn't imagine the heat between them, like firecrackers going off, and he knows she felt it too. That little moan she released into his mouth wasn't for the meathead's benefit; it was spontaneous, completely natural, it said she _liked _it.

And her tongue? Oh god, her tongue, slipping between his lips to stroke his, and the way her mouth opened so wide, like she wanted to devour him. Nope, he didn't make any of that up. Memory is clear as a bell, sharp as a tack, seared into the back of his eyeballs like the Turin Shroud.

So maybe he's out for revenge right now, just a little, by asking her about Josh. He's curious, he's hurting, and he's doing something he never does – he's making her talk about personal stuff.

* * *

"_Fine. He's, um...he's on his way to Haiti to do another Doctors Without Borders mission," she admits, trying to keep her face neutral, her answer non-judgmental, trying not to look as if it bothers her that he's gone again, though he can see the hint of displeasure in her face. _

"_How long?"_

_Beckett shrugs and mouths "I don't know."_

He stays quiet for once, lets her carry on talking because it looks as if she maybe wants to, as if she needs to open up to someone about what's going on in her personal life, and it's not as if they have anything better to do right now.

"_It's so funny, Castle. You know, at first I loved that he was so busy. It just...just gave me an opportunity to keep one foot out the door just in case," she tells him, and he feels his heart contract at this use of his surname, more intimate somehow than if she'd called him Rick right now._

He's pleased to hear her say she's keeping one foot out of the door. He's trying to be a good listener, a good friend, a good partner, but his personal feelings for this woman are clouding his judgment. So yeah, he's pleased.

"_But with one foot out the door, it's hard to know where you stand," he points out, rather than asking her why._

"_And even if I did, I mean, what does it mean? He's out there. He's saving people. Just…how do you even compete with that?" Beckett asks, clearly at something of a loss._

And he wonders if there would ever be a time, in the fantasyland of his mind where _they_ are together, that anything other than Alexis would compete with his love for Kate Beckett. No job, certainly, no book launch, or deadline, no amount of money or fame would ever get in the way of putting this extraordinary woman first for him. He already does that everyday; giving up his time to follow her around, making sure he has her back, trying to help solve homicides not primarily for the victim's sake if he's perfectly honest, but more to prove himself to her, to get her to notice him, to win her admiration. To just simply win her.

But then he doesn't save lives for a living, and maybe that's the difference between him and the dashing Dr. Josh Davidson. Maybe that's why Kate Beckett chose this guy; this inattentive, driven man, who breaks dates with her, puts his job and the lives of complete strangers in far flung lands first every time. Maybe it's just as simple as that.

* * *

"_You can't. No. No one can," he assures her nonetheless, wanting to say, 'try being me, I'm just a writer, at least you fight crime for a living and keep people safe. I make up stories'. Hardly an edifying comparison._

"_And that's one of the things that attracted me to him the most. That...passion. That...drive."_

His brain shuts off on the word 'passion' and the dreamy look on her face as she thinks about her boyfriend. He's passionate. She just never gave him a chance to show her how passionate he can be. The thought of her being passionate with Dr. Motorcycle Boy brings bile to the back of his throat.

But then she's speaking again.

"_Why is it that the thing that attracts you to a person always ends up being that thing that just drives you crazy? I just wish that it… I wish that I had someone who would be there for me, and I could be there for him, and we could just dive in to it together," she says wistfully._

And with these words, he feels as if the earth just stopped spinning, as if the universe is giving him a sign: a friendly pat on the rear and then a huge shove onto center stage, spotlight and all, accompanied by the words, '_Castle, you're on!'_

"Like partners?" he finds himself saying, his voice shot through with a definite seam of sarcasm.

Because she just described _them_. She just described what they already are to one another and he can't even tell her, and she doesn't even seem to realize it herself. She's never been this open with him before about her emotional needs, and his brain is too screwed up to understand just how much trust she is placing in him by revealing this side of herself to him – that her relationship is foundering on the rocks of neglect and she's already looking to the horizon for some new salvation; has already formed a clear picture of what that promised land would look like.

One foot out the door…the other halfway down the hill.

* * *

"Mmm?" she asks, raising her head from examining the floor to look at him.

"Me too," murmurs Castle, looking down at the floor between his legs, adding a barely uttered, "I guess, sometimes you can't see what's right in front of you."

"What?"

"I said, me too," he repeats more clearly, getting up from the hard bench to stretch and pace the floor again.

He suddenly needs space from her or he knows will say something he regrets; take advantage of her emotional vulnerability, touch her, whatever, something…_inappropriate_.

"No, what you said first. You said _like partners._ What does that mean?" asks Kate, her attention suddenly fully on her partner.

"Nothing."

"Castle, you can't throw something like out there and then just walk away."

"Watch me," he says, taking another tour of the isolation tent, disappointed to find that it's still as dull and featureless as the last time he prowled its perimeter.

"Well, it doesn't look as if we're going anywhere anytime soon. You obviously having something on your mind, some…_opinion_ on the subject," she says, crossing her arms and leaning back a little on the hard bench as if getting comfortable for a long chat. "So you might as well talk," she tells him, tracking his passage across the floor with her eyes.

There's a slight hint of amusement in her tone, as if he's about to come up with another doozy of a madcap theory that she can just mock, and that sets his teeth on edge. Because this - what they're on the drafty ledge of discussing - is no joking matter.

* * *

"No. Let's not," he insists, feeling as if they're veering towards dangerous territory, careening down a hill with no brakes on their go-cart, the wobbly wheels from their Lil' Red Wagon being powered on by the stress of being cooped up in this white, plastic tent together, the wind rustling it's pathetically insubstantial sides, the threat of radiation sickness, poisoning or worse hanging over them.

It's that 'if we were the last man and woman on earth' feeling. The madness that drives women to throw themselves at complete strangers during times of war; the heady rush that culminated in the famous kiss between a nurse and a sailor in Times Square on V-J Day.

Well, this isn't Fleet Week, and he's no sailor, and though he suspects Kate Beckett would look mouth-watering in a nurses' uniform, he's not going to go there. He's not.

* * *

"Would you sit down please? You're making me dizzy," says Beckett, dropping her head into her hands.

He never could resist a distressed Kate Beckett, so he does as she asks, sitting back on his own bench, but turning side on to her, facing the zipper-door end of their football field sized teepee so that he doesn't have to look at her directly.

"Talk," she says, when he just stares sullenly at the floor.

"You have a subject in mind or would you just like me to pick a random selection of witty anecdotes and…"

"Castle," she sighs, not impressed by his avoidance tactics clearly.

"What?" he asks, his mouth suddenly dry, and for the love of God couldn't they at least have shut them in here with a drinks trolley and some DVD's?

"You _know_ what. Now talk," she insists again, smoothing her hands over her thighs.

"Beckett," he says, a warning tone to his voice.

"Don't 'Beckett' me, Castle. Say what's on your mind."

"What if I don't want to?" he asks, sounding childish even to his own ears.

"You started it," she argues back. "You brought up the subject, you asked about Josh, you clearly have a view on what I just said. I'd like to hear it," she tells him, adding a belated, but all too audible, "Please?" that gets him in the gut.

"Kate, this really isn't my place," he tries, hoping she'll lose this nerve she's found from somewhere and back off.

"Well, I'm making it your place, Castle. So start talking," she insists, nudging his shoe with the toe of her boot.

He has wanted to say certain…difficult, personal things to her for so long, and now that she's giving him permission…? Yeah, not as fun as he thought.

* * *

"I…I just meant that what you were describing sounded like a partnership," he stutters out, thinking on his feet, busking it for all he's worth.

"_Bullshit_," she says quietly, flicking her eyes to his face and then looking off to the side, her jaw hardened by disappointment.

Disappointment in him, and it's all he can do to stop from spilling his guts, from trying to redeem himself in her eyes with the whole, ugly, pathetic truth.

"Language, Detective," he scolds instead, trying to lighten things up and divert from this overwhelming pit of honesty they're being inexorably sucked towards.

"You meant us," she states simply, raising her eyes from her clasped hands lying peacefully in her lap to look right at him. "Didn't you?"

"I…look, Kate, I've said too much already. We should just drop it. How much longer do you think they'll keep us in here?" he asks, getting up again and walking over to the little porthole to peer outside, wondering if he could just use his penknife to cut his way out of this damned nylon prison.

And since when did getting trapped alone with Kate Beckett become something of a nightmare, instead of everyday fodder for his adolescent, personal fantasies? Since she went on an honesty trip, he thinks, hearing her say something else that has him spinning around.

* * *

"As long as it takes, I guess," she says, before adding, "Extra, if you don't sit down and talk to me, Castle."

"You really want to get into this?" he challenges back, angry that she's pushing him when that's usually his job. "_Here?_ _Now?_"

"No time like the present," she argues back, pointing out, "We could be dead in a matter of hours if your theory pans out, so…" she shrugs.

When he stays lurking in his own corner of the papery yurt, Beckett turns on her bench to face him.

"You said 'me too'," she reminds him," her voice more conciliatory now, softer, kinder, like she really does want to understand him. "What did you mean?"

"I…I guess I feel like you do. That I want that special someone to share my life with. I get lonely sometimes, and I feel as if…" he pauses, comes back to sit down heavily on his own bench, suddenly feeling exhausted as the adrenalin drains right out of him under her quiet questioning.

"As if…?" prompts Kate gently.

"As if life is passing me by. Without someone to share things with, it's just a long, lonely road."

"_We_ share stuff," she offers, playing right into his original argument, though he knows she's just trying to make him feel better.

"Yeah, Beckett, we do," he agrees, thinking this might be a nice place to stop, since he was supposed to be making her feel better and suddenly it's all about him and his pathetic needs.

"But you want more?" she pushes, and damn, when did she get to be so bold?

He feels his face flush despite the cold in the tent. If he just says yes, will she accept it as a general wish for more, or will he give himself away that he wants more _with her_?

"I would like more, yes," he says quietly. "Same as you, by the sound of it."

"We're a sorry pair," she says wryly, nudging his knee with her own.

"That we are," agrees Castle, his voice tight, slightly strangled as he sees the door to opportunity closing with this statement, and feels no rush of courage to help him throw himself at it's swinging hinges.

* * *

They sit quietly for a few minutes, listening to the muffled hubbub outside - the arrival and departure of vehicles, the shouts of men's voices, the slamming of doors.

"It doesn't have to be that way," says Beckett, out of the blue.

"What doesn't?" asks Castle, instantly on high alert.

"You, single, alone. You're a very…_eligible_ guy. Good looking, intelligent, rich never hurt," she laughs, smiling when a faint smile turns up the corners of his mouth.

"You forgot ruggedly handsome and incredibly funny," he adds, finding this banter a lot easier to participate in.

"Those too," she agrees surprisingly easily, nodding thoughtfully.

"Not exactly saving lives though, is it?" he says, a little self-pityingly.

"Oh, I don't know. Your books saved my life, Castle," she confesses, for the first time ever.

His head shoots up.

"What? How?"

"After my mom died, I found a collection of your books among her things. Turns out she was quite the fan. I started reading them just to be close to her at first, and then your words kind of took over the job…made me feel hopeful again. As if evil wouldn't always triumph over good, despite how things were working out with my mom's case."

"Why have you never told me any of this before?" he asks, shocked by the revelation, but also a little hurt that she would keep it from him.

"I guess, in the beginning I didn't want to look like another desperate groupie. You would have crowed mercilessly over that information back then," she admits, and he knows she's right. He would have been an insufferable jackass about it.

"Then, later, after we got to know one another better, it seemed…superfluous. You were saving my life for real on a daily basis, not with words, but the hard way. As my partner. You had already earned my respect, Castle. I didn't want you to think it was only about my love of your writing."

_Her love of his writing_. He thinks this might just be the most perfect, meaningful thing she's ever said to him.

"That you like my writing that much…I…I don't know what to say?" he stammers out.

"I like a lot more than the writing, Castle. Or have you not been paying attention, as usual?" she teases, quite obviously flirting with him.

"I was listening. I just don't want to presume…anything that might get me in trouble."

"If…" she starts, and he feels his blood pressure begin to rise immediately at the look on her face – part serious, part tease. "If you were to presume…free pass from me…what would you be presuming?" she asks, watching him until he has to turn away.

"Don't go cold on me now, Rick," she says boldly, touching his knee when he remains silent.

"Kate, we shouldn't be doing this," he argues, crossing his arms over his chest. "You have a boyfriend."

"Who isn't here. Who is _never_ here. But you are, aren't you?" she says, finally getting to the point. "What you said earlier, 'like partners' that's what you meant, wasn't it?"

He shrugs.

"Wasn't it?" she pushes. "That we're already there for one another…we just need to let go and dive in…"

"Kate," he protests, needing her to stop, and yet not to stop...ever

It's torture, having her drive this. He has so much he wants to say and yet he doesn't want to look like a dishonorable jerk.

* * *

"Do we want to carry on ignoring what's right in front of us? Do we? That kiss?" she says, and his poor heart dives into his throat. "We never talked about that, Castle. Me having a boyfriend didn't seem to worry you then."

"That was undercover work, a ruse. You know that," he growls, lying, lying, lying.

"Seriously? Because it felt pretty real to me."

"Ever meet my mother, the _acting coach?"_ he points out sarcastically, lying again.

"See that is just so much bullshit," she yells, slamming her hand down on the metal bench so that it rings out in the heavy, filtered atmosphere of the tent. "I know you felt it too. So why are you lying to me, Castle? Hmm? Three years you've been following me around. And I'm pretty sure it's not about the books anymore. You're an attractive man, and yet you haven't been on a date in..._forever._ What's that all about, huh? It's like you're waiting for something."

"And you think I'm waiting for you, is that it?" he spits out.

"Well, aren't you?" she argues, facing him down.

"You have a _boyfriend_," he repeats, gritting his teeth.

"And what if I didn't? What then?" she yells, just as the zipper door whizzes open, and Captain Montgomery steps over the threshold.

_A/N: I'm thinking this might be a two-parter. What do you think? Should I carry on with it? Liv_


	2. Chapter 2 Frozen In Time

Disclaimer: Includes some of the original ABC script from Ep. 3x17 of Castle. No copyright infringement is meant. And no financial gain sought.

* * *

_**Setting Up For Something**_

_Chapter 2: Frozen In Time_

They gape at one another for a second, blood pounding, so much left unsaid between them, while Montgomery stands awkwardly near the flimsy door of the isolation tent trying to act as if he heard none of their yelled conversation, as if the goddamn walls aren't made out of little more than spun fibers; tissue thin like their bridge to '_more'_ right now.

The hazmat guy comes over first to inform them that they've only been exposed to a tiny amount of Cobalt 60, that they're going to be fine. Montgomery schools his features to tell them that their help is required if they're up to it, since there really is a dirty bomb out there somewhere, and even the DHS could use their assistance trying to locate it.

* * *

The next eight hours are exhausting, tense, and busy. They have this rigid, by the book, difficult jackass from the Department of Homeland Security – Agent Mark Fallon – leading the task force. He hates Castle almost on sight, wants him gone, no civilians on his team, and he has several attempts to make it happen.

Only Beckett and Captain Montgomery's efforts to keep him there prevent him from being sidelined or benched completely.

But then Castle goes rogue, leaves to speak to a suspect, a Syrian national with diplomatic immunity. He gets Beckett's approval for the interview first, but as soon as Agent Fallon gets wind of it, they're both called into Montgomery's office and thrown off the task force without further ado.

After being escorted out of the precinct, Castle suggests that they go to the loft to carry on working the case by themselves. With no other plan immediately springing to mind, Beckett agrees.

The ride over in her unmarked is tensely silent. They do an awkward dance in front of Castle's elevator, and then another one when he ushers her into the loft and tries to help her off with her coat: all fingers and thumbs and nervous apologies.

Castle managed to get Alexis and his mother out of the city while the threat of the dirty bomb hangs over them. So they are alone at the loft, and the air crackles with the charge of unresolved issues between them.

Castle asks Kate if she got in touch with Josh, just to be polite, but she brushes him off with something about his cell being off since he's probably on the flight to Haiti already. Other than that, they've had no chance to talk about what happened in the isolation tent, and they make no time for it either.

When she looks at him, he thinks he sees a new softness in her eyes, but nothing more than that, nothing overt. She's not embarrassed it seems, which he takes as a good sign – no hint of regret for the things she said, no apology or retraction. But for now, it's all about the case.

* * *

Castle hooks up a makeshift murder board in his living room on a shower curtain. He managed to snap a photo of the active murder board in the precinct before they were escorted off the premises, and he links his phone to a projector to fire the image onto the white screen. Ever the resourceful partner.

Kate wanders around his office while he gets everything set up, touching things she's never been close enough to look at before. She's holding a framed photograph of Alexis and Castle when he approaches to let her know that he's ready. Alexis is about four years old in the picture, and they're running along a beach, the little redhead riding high on her daddy's shoulders. Castle looks ridiculously happy, jiggling his little girl as he runs like the wind and she giggles uncontrollably. Beckett doesn't hear him approach.

Castle watches his partner bring the photograph closer to her face, squinting to take in the detail, he sees her reflexively smiling back at the two happy people in the picture, catches her caresses his outline with the tip of her finger.

And then he walks away.

The scene is too personal, too intimate, in what it reveals about the conflict of emotions that might be going on in her mind. He doesn't want to scare her off by having her think that he was snooping, or embarrass her if she catches him watching. So he just yells from a safe distance away in the living room that the murder board is ready.

They eventually figure out that the warehouse where Amir's body was found seems to offer a key to their case, and they take off to have a look.

* * *

The area is so dark and deserted. They leave Beckett's car outside on the street, and then make their way on foot towards the damp, broken down building. Beckett grabs Castle's arm just as they near the entrance.

"We don't know what we're gonna find in here. So…just be careful, okay?" she says, holding onto the sleeve of his coat.

"Kate…" Castle begins, wanting to say something more, something meaningful; something that will keep them moving in this new direction she's pointed them towards.

"Later, Castle," she promises, squeezing his arm hard, before turning away.

* * *

Once inside, they see a white van parked a few yards up ahead, and so they stop. Beckett draws her gun and they approach the back of the van very carefully.

She silently indicates to Castle that he should open the back door, while she readies her weapon. The air goes frighteningly still and they almost forget to breathe when they look inside to find the bomb they've been searching for, the digital timer lit up an angry, urgent red, showing T minus 13:21:46 on the flashing clock.

Beckett's radiation monitor immediately starts to sound, then shots are fired at them from somewhere behind. They both dive for cover while bullets ricochet off the van and the old brick walls. Beckett shoots back in the general direction of fire, unable to see who's attacking them at this point.

Just as the shooters pull back, Beckett spots an open storage container where they can take cover. There' a light coming from inside and it looks as if it will give them adequate protection until they can call for backup.

"Castle. Door. We gotta move. Ready? _Go_," she yells at her partner, indicating that she'll cover him while he makes it to the entrance.

She steps out into the open once more, as he runs towards the container, then she follows him inside and closes the door, poised with her gun held in both hands, ready for them to attack again.

But the door bangs all the way closed and then they hear the lock sliding into place. Castle turns around as Beckett shoves against the door, but the damn thing won't budge. They're trapped.

"Beckett," he says, his voice low, laced with a warning.

Then he rolls over a frozen body he's found at the back of the freezer storage container wrapped up in a white tarp.

"It's Jamal," he says, shooting her a worried look.

* * *

The container is lit up a ghostly bluish-white, eerily reminiscent of the isolation tent they were sequestered in several hours earlier. Only this time it really is cold. A thick layer of frost lines the inside, and refrigerator elements snake up the walls at various points.

Beckett holds up her cell phone trying to get a signal.

"Got anything?" she asks Castle, as he circles the container looking for a way out, a power shut off, anything.

"No, nothing. No thermostat, no control-box. Must be on the outside," he tells her, beginning to feel more than a little sick.

"Got any bars on your phone?" she asks, holding hers a little higher.

Castle spins around, moving his phone to see if he can find a patch with any reception.

"Uh... No. Wait, wait, wait. No. You?" he asks, failing to get anything on his own phone.

"No," she admits, defeated.

"How cold do you think it is in here?" asks Castle, beginning to shiver, wrapping his coat tighter around his body.

"Um, judging by the way that it feels, I'd say it's well below freezing."

"How long do you think we're going to last dressed like this?" he wonders aloud, wishing he'd worn a thick, flannel, plaid shirt tonight, instead of the fancy, French navy, fine cotton dress shirt he chose because he thought it brought out the blue in his eyes.

"A couple of hours at the most," says Beckett gravely, zipping her grey hoodie over her white t-shirt, and then closing the zipper on her black leather jacket too.

She pulls her hood up to keep the heat from escaping the top of her head, and Castle gives her a once over, wishing she was wearing one of her incredible collection of long, wool coats, instead of jeans and this short jacket. They both might freeze, but there's a good chance Kate will succumb first.

"That's what I thought, too," he admits, buttoning his own coat.

* * *

Without any warning, Beckett rams her shoulder into the thick metal door, making a lot of noise, but with no effective result.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wha… that door's made of steel. I don't… I don't think that's gonna do anything," he says, worried she's just going to hurt herself.

"Castle, nobody knows that we're in here. Nobody even knows to look for us. We're gonna freeze to death if we don't get out of here," she reminds him, and he can already hear the panic in her voice.

"Well, maybe there's another way out," he suggests, with trademark optimism, determined not to let her down if he can help it.

But he looks fruitlessly around the steel box and sees nothing that's going to get them out; no means of escape and no way to shut off power to the freezer unit.

"Right. On three?" he says, putting his own shoulder to the steel door.

"Yeah. One," counts Beckett.

"Two," calls Castle.

"Three," yells Beckett, and they ram the door together, perfectly synchronized as usual.

They ram it several times in succession, until Beckett wipes her brow and finds ice crystals forming on the tips of her fingers.

"Castle, that's not good," she says, realizing things are getting desperate for both of them pretty quickly.

"No, it's not," he agrees.

"Alright. Stand back," she instructs, drawing her weapon.

"What are you gonna do?" asks Castle, staring at the Glock in her hand.

"Just stand back," she warns him, raising her arms and pointing her gun at the latch.

Castle finally catches on to her plan to shoot her way out of the container.

"_Ho! Oh!_" he yells out, trying to stop her.

Beckett shoots at the door, letting off several rounds, but the bullets all spark and ricochet off the steel panels, bouncing around the walls of the metal box, as Castle dodges from side to side, his arms held up in front of his head.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Whoa, whoa! Are you trying to kill us sooner?"

"Do you have a better idea?" she asks, defeated, embarrassed, because she knows that he's right, and helpless.

"Maybe just save a few rounds for in case they come back," he suggests with a shrug.

* * *

They stare at one another, their fear clear for the other to see.

"Castle, I could use a silver lining right about now, okay?" she tells him, sounding desperate and panicked, and not a little upset.

"Yeah. Um... I wish I had one," he admits, hating, absolutely _hating,_ that he is letting her down.

He comes to stand closer to her, wanting to touch her, all out of ideas. Physical activity to keep warm is out, since perspiration is already freezing on their skin risking frostbite and dehydration. The cold is sapping their energy levels as their bodies fight to keep them warm by making them shiver.

He barely touches her elbow, just to let her know that he's here for her, that they are in this together, but she steps into him immediately, arms wrapping around his waist on top of his bulky coat. He's unsure whether or not to reciprocate at first. But then she lays her head on his shoulder, and he gives in, wrapping his own arms around her shoulders and holding her tightly. They stand like that, embracing, sharing their body heat, for a long time, no words spoken.

Eventually, their systems get sluggish as the cold slows them down, dulls their thinking, making them sleepy and exhausted; sapping their energy.

When they stumble, already half-asleep on their feet, they give in and slouch to the floor against one wall, settling next to one another. They have no idea how much time passes as they drift in and out of consciousness. At some point, Castle gives in again and wraps his arms around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him to share his body heat once more.

Kate is so slim, so lacking in body fat, that he wishes he could wrap her up in his own coat to keep her warmer, but he knows she won't hear of it.

They tried talking at first, but their sentences were fractured, drunk sounding and incoherent. Castle worries this may actually be the end for both of them this time; with no way out of this and no hope of imminent rescue on the horizon. He doesn't want to admit this to Beckett, but he knows he has left so many things unsaid, let too many opportunities go, and now his mind is fogging with the sapping pull of freezing cold air rapidly shutting his system down.

He grits his chattering teeth, determined to say something.

* * *

"Kate? About before," he begins, his body wracked by tremors.

"Mmm?" she murmurs, stirring slighting against him.

"Before. In the radiation tent. What you said. You were right. I did mean us," he admits, while her body trembles in his arms.

"Right?" she whispers weakly, obviously finding it hard to follow his train of thought.

"Yes. I…I did mean us," he confesses. "Someone to dive in with…I meant you."

She doesn't reply, so he carries on talking.

"I'm sorry I lied to you. I can't believe the universe is putting us through this right now after…_everything_. Like we needed anymore of a sign to…to just get on with things."

"Karma," she sighs with a slight smile, the words losing coherency as they pass her frozen lips.

"Yeah, well, karma can go to hell. If we get out of this alive," he chokes, coughing when the dry, freezing air attacks his lungs. "Things are going to change," he declares.

"I have a boyfriend," mutters Beckett deliriously, burrowing deeper into his body, her knees pressed on top of his thighs, her head against his cheek despite what she just said.

And Castle can't figure out is she doesn't know what she's saying, if maybe she thinks he's Josh, or if she's changed her mind about earlier and is reminding him that she isn't free to pursue anything with him. The turmoil in his sluggish brain, caused by panic that the cold is close to overtaking them, only makes him more anxious.

"You were right," she sighs again, before going very quiet, leaning heavily against him.

Right about what, he wants to know. That she has a boyfriend so he should back off and leave her alone, stop all this crazy talk about them becoming more than partners?

* * *

Suddenly she starts to talk again, and it's as if she's become so frozen that her body has shut down her ability to see; vision being a lower functional requirement right now.

"Castle? Are you there?" she asks, as if she can actually no longer see him, only feel him holding her.

"Yeah, I'm right… I'm right…I'm right here," he reassures her, holding her tighter, teeth chattering.

"I can't feel anything," she tells him, and his worries treble. "Huh. I always thought, being a cop, I'd take a bullet. Never thought I'd freeze to death," she murmurs somewhat wryly.

"Hey. W…we're not dead yet," he manages to stammer out, determined not to let her give in.

"I just wish this was one of your books and you could re-write the ending," she confesses, and he remembers all over again her confession that she loved his writing, that her mom loved his writing, and that his books saved her life.

He wishes with all his heart that he could re-write this ending too. That he could get them both out of here and they could start again. Together. But he's powerless to do more than try to keep her warm with his own dwindling body heat.

"I'm s… I'm sorry," he apologizes, pressing his chin against the top of her head, her soft, grey hoodie partially covering her frost-laced hair.

"For what?" she whispers, losing strength with every passing second.

"F…for being _me_. Going rogue. Getting you into…into this. If we hadn't gone…gone rogue..." he says, stammering out a rambling apology, every breath fought for, the freezing air burning his smarting lungs like a million tiny needle pricks.

"Oh, shh. Castle, no. Okay? Shhh," she soothes as if talking to a child, her tone meant to comfort him, to silence his apology, to mollify.

And she sounds as soft and tender towards him as he's ever heard her, full of care and devoid of blame. The fight and anger from the discussion in the tent completely dissipated.

"You were right. We found the bomb. We were just too late, okay?" she reassures him, too much acceptance of their fate in her voice and in her words for his liking.

* * *

Beckett then turns her body into him, her face so close to his that their cheeks are touching, and then she reaches up to stroke his chin with a frozen finger, barely able to make the gesture, she's so sapped of energy.

"Castle," she whispers. "Thank you...for being there," she tells him drunkenly.

And he wonders if she's thinking of the boyfriend who abandoned her to go and help others, or if she means all the times he's been there for her? Suddenly he's terrified that what she actually might be saying is goodbye.

"Always," he tells her, resolutely, wishing he could find more to say, a better way to keep her with him, to assure her that there will be more scrapes and more cases and he'll be at her side for all of them.

"I just want you to know how much I..." she whispers, barely audibly, passing out before she can finish whatever it is she wanted to tell him.

Castle wants to hear the rest. _Needs_ to hear it. Was she going to say how much she _appreciates, values, loves him_?

He panics, despite his weakened state. His heart plummets, hoping desperately that she's not dying on him. Not today when they finally have a chance at something. Why couldn't he have said more? Seized the chance earlier to come clean to her, make a plan, have something to hold onto until help can come? He tried to be honorable; holding back because she's with someone already. But she was giving him a green light to tell her how things might develop between them if she were free, and he stalled at the junction

"Hey, Kate," he whispers, shaking her a little to rouse her and pressing his cheek against hers. "Stay with me, Kate. Stay with me," he begs, tears freezing against his lashes like hoar frost.

* * *

Semi-conscious, Castle hears the container doors open and two figures with flashlights rush towards them. He has no idea how much time has passed since he and Kate last spoke. All he can feel is her lying like a dead weight in his arms.

He hears a distorted voice yelling, "Castle? Beckett?"

It's daylight again when Castle wakes up in the back of an ambulance and tries to sit up. A paramedic pushes him down on the gurney.

He fights the man, calling out for Beckett, desperate to know how she is, if she's okay, fearing the very worst, clawing his way back to the surface.

Suddenly Josh is climbing into the back of the ambulance with him, and he feels like he's being crushed all over again.

"Where is she?" he gasps, struggling against the hands holding him down.

"She's gonna be fine. You're both fine. Got to you just in time," says Josh.

"Josh?" Castle asks, still confused, only just recognizing the man.

"Hey. So, you're recovering from a moderate case of hypothermia and you're going to be a little bit sluggish for a while," the doctor explains. "But, with some warmth and some fluids, you should be alright."

"I thought you were in Haiti," Castle says, barely keeping the disappointment out of his voice, actually meaning 'I wish you were in Haiti'.

"Didn't go. This is gonna hurt" Josh says, withdrawing the Venflon catheter from the back of Castle's hand to remove the IV.

"Okay. Let's see if we can't get you to sit up," he says, grasping Castle under the arms to help him upright. "Alright, move slowly. There we go."

And it's almost more than he can bear, accepting any kind of help from this man.

"How long was I out?"

"About an hour," Josh confirms.

"The bomb," says Castle, his memory of what they saw in the back of the white van before they were trapped inside the freezer suddenly flooding back to him; the image of that flashing red digital display burned in his mind.

But before he can say anymore, Castle sees Beckett leaning against a car a few yards way outside, wrapped in a rough grey blanket. She's smiling at him, a silly, crazy little smile meant just for him. He leaves the ambulance and walks towards her, wrapped in a blanket of his own.

* * *

"Grey was never really your color," she teases, offering him a weak, apologetic smile this time, as she indicates their matching blankets.

He smiles back, his heart singing to see her alive and well enough to tease him, when he believed that she might have died in his arms.

"Saw your boy's back in town," he says to his partner, settling in next to her as they lean against a patrol car.

"Mm-hmm. He came back," she says, glancing in Josh's direction, where the doctor sits on the back steps of the ambulance, waiting.

Her face is inscrutable when Josh smiles over at her. Castle watches them as if they are a tennis match, looking from one face to the other and back again.

"So, what does that mean to you?" he asks tersely, his jaw tight, heart practically cracking in two at this point.

"Don't you mean, what does it mean for us?" she asks, glancing up at him just once, before nudging him in the side, rising up off the car, and adding, "Come on. Fallon wants a debrief."

* * *

_A/N: Okay, so firstly, beyond amazing response to chapter one. You guys are so kind. Secondly, epic fail on keeping this to two parts again. I'm so embarrassed! Three parts, I promise…sort of. You with me? Liv_


	3. Chapter 3 Tick Tock

Disclaimer: Includes some of the original ABC script from Ep. 3x17 of Castle. No copyright infringement is meant. And no financial gain sought.

* * *

_**Setting Up For Something**_

_Chapter 3: Tick Tock_

They have barely ten hours to find the bomb before it goes off, since it's set to detonate at four o'clock that same day.

Beckett requests reinstatement to the team for both herself and Castle, and when Agent Fallon tells her that it's up to her doctor, the detective goes over to speak to Josh.

Watching Beckett walk away, Fallon remarks to Castle, "You know, it's funny. When I first met you two, I thought you were together."

"Oh. No. Just…just friends," stammers Castle, feeling as if he's decrying everything he believes in with these words, watching his partner turn around to glance at him when he suspects that she overhears his words.

But she doesn't look disappointed in him or angry, only grateful maybe that he's being discreet.

"Get cleaned up. We got a long day ahead of us," Fallon tells Castle, turning away to marshal his agents.

* * *

Castle goes home alone to shower and change, catching up with Martha and Alexis when he gets there. He persuades them to go to the Hamptons for the weekend, to get out of town without telling anyone to minimize the risk of spreading the word and starting a city-wide panic.

He stands under his steaming shower for a good twenty minutes, the water set as hot as he can take it, finally succumbing to a wave of tears now that the adrenalin is subsiding and the realization of just how close he and Kate came to dying hits him full force.

* * *

He arrives at the precinct bearing his usual cup of coffee for Beckett, finding her curled up in her chair, knees hugged to her chest.

"Figured you could use the caffeine. And the warmth," he adds, dropping his hand to her shoulder briefly when he places the cup in front of her.

"Thank you. Are you okay?" she asks, nipping her lip between her teeth as she looks at his face, worried eyes checking him over.

"Yeah," he nods, taking a long sip from his own cup, allowing the coffee to scald his insides, still trying to banish the shivers that rattle through his body every now and again without warning.

"You ever wonder about Fallon?" he asks, nodding towards the conference room where the Agent is chatting to his men. "I mean, what this must be like for him, living this every day? I told Alexis and my mother to get out of town. I didn't tell them why, but they knew. They wanted to tell their friends and I told them...they couldn't. I felt like a monster. I mean, that must be some kind of hell feeling that all the time."

"It kind of makes you wonder how many times this has happened since 9/11 and we were the ones who didn't know," replies Beckett, warming her stiff fingers on the sides of the coffee cup.

* * *

Castle sits down in his seat next to her desk, and they fall silent for a second, lost in their own private thoughts.

"I heard what Fallon said to you at the warehouse," Beckett brings up eventually.

Castle raises his head to look at her.

"About…?" he stalls, scrambling for appropriate words to describe the question the agent obliquely asked about his relationship with his partner.

"That he thought we were together," she says, nudging his knee with the toe of her boot, a shy smile on her face.

Nearly dying for the second time in as many hours is changing her into this open, challenging being, and Castle doesn't know whether to be glad or afraid.

"Oh, that," he nods, as if it's nothing, trying to suppress his own smile. "No wonder he wanted me off the case."

"Department rules against interpersonal relationships?" asks Beckett, frowning slightly, tilting her head to look at him.

"No. I was thinking more that he wanted a crack at you himself. Couldn't do it with me around to crowd him," he jokes, nudging her knee with his own. "Or completely out class him," he smirks cockily.

Beckett laughs so hard she has to put her coffee cup back down on the desk or risk spilling the contents over herself.

"Oh, Castle, I'm so glad we can joke about this," she sighs, still smiling. "That things aren't…_awkward_ between us," she adds, and Castle freezes.

"Why would things be awkward?" he asks tersely, immediately fearing that she's patched things up with Josh, decided to stick with what she knows, no matter how damaged and inadequate it is.

"Just that…we nearly die frozen in each other's arms, and then you wake up to find my boyfriend sitting in the back of the ambulance with you. It is kind of a mess. Even for us," she admits. "So, I'm glad you played it close to the vest in front of Agent Douchebag in there."

"Why wouldn't I?" asks Castle, tightly. "It's no one else's business."

Just at that moment, Beckett's phone rings, and when she answers it, his spirits hit a new low.

"Oh, hey, Josh," she says, smiling awkwardly at Castle. "Thanks for calling me back."

Then she covers the mouthpiece and whispers, "I'm sorry, I really have to take this," getting up from her desk and heading down the hall before he can be the one to give her space.

Castle watches her walk away; her long easy stride, her strong, alluring body, and he tries to imagine what she might be telling her boyfriend over the phone. Then he finally gives up torturing himself to go and join Agent Fallon's briefing session.

* * *

He feels Beckett bump against him when she enters the conference room, standing so close that he can smell her scented soap rising up off her warm skin. He badly wants to touch her again, but he knows that he can't.

"Everything okay?" she asks, nudging his side with her elbow, her cell phone still in her hand.

"I could ask you the same thing," mutters Castle a little sullenly, worn down by too many disappointments, a lack of sleep, and the lingering depressive effects of hypothermia.

"Fine. Just fine," murmurs Beckett distractedly, crossing her arms over her chest, turning to face the front where Agent Fallon is rallying the troops, giving nothing more away for now.

* * *

They finally figure out that the guy they're looking for is a disgruntled Iraq war veteran out for revenge; looking for a way to put the war against terror front of mind with the American people again. He stole the identity of his best friend, a fellow soldier, and now they've tracked him down via his cell phone signal.

They bring Radford Hayes in for questioning, but the interrogation goes badly when Agent Fallon loses his cool with the suspect and draws his gun on the guy.

Castle has to watch from behind the screen while Beckett is forced to draw her weapon and point it at Fallon, who's refusing to put his gun down. And it's only after a very tense standoff that she finally gets him to stand down and lower his weapon.

Castle finds her in the break room a couple of minutes later trying to pour herself a cup of coffee, but her hands are shaking so badly that she can't hold the pot.

"Hey," he says quietly, so as not to startle her. "I got that," he offers, taking the coffee pot out of her hands and pouring for her.

"Thank you," she says, giving him a weak smile.

Castle checks to make sure they are alone, and then he takes both of her wrists in his hands and holds them for a second just to steady her, sweeping his thumbs over her pulse points to help calm her down.

"Just take a breath," he says quietly, looking into her eyes, before letting go.

Kate is finally able to lift her cup without it rattling in the saucer. She smiles at him in gratitude.

* * *

"You were…pretty awesome in there," Castle tells her, trying to break the tense mood, seeing how tightly wound the standoff has made her.

"I nearly shot a Federal Agent, Castle. That would have done wonders for my career."

"He was being an asshole. No way he was ever going to break that guy. Hayes is beyond redemption. Clearly believes he's on a righteous mission. His own special brand of jihad. We're on our own with this one, Beckett. That guy's giving us nothing."

"Castle…?" says Beckett eventually, her cup cradled again her chest.

"Mmm?" he asks, drinking his own coffee.

"What happens if…? What if we don't figure this out in time?"

He thinks he's possibly never seen her looking so uncertain before, so lacking in belief that she has the ability to do this. She's looking to him for the answer, and it thrills and scares him in equal measure.

"I…I think that's not even an option," he tells her. "I think I don't want this to be my last day on earth, Kate. Drinking coffee, here, with you, has an undeniable appeal I grant you. But I for one would like to know what happens next," he tells her, giving her a hopeful smile. "How the story carries on."

"Me too," agrees Beckett, clinking her coffee cup against her partner's.

"Then lets make it happen," says Castle, suddenly fired-up again.

* * *

After a few false starts, Castle figures out that with Jamal and Amir out of the picture, Hayes needed another patsy to blame the bombing on to point the world towards the event being an act of terror, and not the home-grown act of a traitor.

They go to find Amir's wife in the hope that she can lead them to some of his associates. But they find the surveillance agent Fallon had sitting on her place assassinated outside the house, and Nazihah and her baby missing. There's a suicide note lying on a table inside the house that reads: "Allah Akbar. God is great. I go to my glory against the forces of the infidel."

Nazihah has been chosen to be the terrorist, and her baby is the leverage they needed to make it happen.

Out of ideas as to where to find Hayes two accomplices, Castle suggests bringing in the Syrian Diplomat, Fariq Yusef. Agent Fallon reluctantly agrees, and the man eventually admits that they had Amir's wife under surveillance and gives them the address of a red brick industrial building on the corner of 158th Street and Franklin. There they find Hayes two military-buddy accomplices, and Fallon takes over their interrogation. He manages to trick them into revealing the destination Amir's wife is headed with the bomb in the back of the van by telling them Hayes cut a deal implicating both of them in the plot.

Amir's wife has a ten-minute head start on them, but Beckett thinks they might be able to catch her before she reaches the intended target site – Times Square.

* * *

"You should not have taken Broadway," Castle tells her, as they careen down the street, weaving through heavy traffic.

"It's the most direct route to Midtown," she argues back, glancing over her shoulder as she overtakes a truck on the inside.

"Yeah, but it's not the fastest. We should cut over..."

"Castle, would you please stop telling me how to drive?" she yells at him, nerves getting the better of both of them.

"I'm not telling you how to drive," he insists.

"You _are_ telling me how to drive," she argues back, the vein in the center of her forehead standing out against her pale skin.

Castle thinks they sound frighteningly like an old, married couple out for a Sunday drive, arguing over an out-of-date map. In fact, he positively wishes that's what they were, instead of confused partners on their way to track down a nuclear bomb.

"Nazihah's husband was a cabby," he reminds her, trying to be useful, to calm things down, before she pulls over and dumps him out by curb.

"So?"

"So, Broadway slows down in the 70's through Midtown. She would know that the fastest way is West End to 11th, and then cut cross-town on 48th," he points out.

"Okay, why 48th and not 46th?" she challenges, and he sees that look on her face; the look she gets when she really starts to listen to him, the look she gets right before she realizes that he has a valid point, a good point.

"Because 46th has construction on it. Turn here," he says, quickly pointing to the right, and Beckett turns the wheel sharply on his command, taking the route he suggests, trusting in her partner.

* * *

They hear the chatter on the radio from air support up above them, relaying that the van is currently headed south bound on Broadway, and Beckett thinks they've made a mistake, that listening to Castle has just taken them away from where they needed to be.

She's just about to turn around when Castle yells and points, "No, don't turn around. It's the wrong van. Look. There, there, there," he cries, as the black van careens round the corner right in front of them with Nazihah at the wheel.

They speed up, pull alongside, and Beckett turns on her lights, sounds the siren a couple of times when they get level with Nazihah in attempt to get her attention. At the piercing _whoot whoot_ she looks petrified, but still doesn't want to pull over because she thinks her baby's life is in danger.

So Beckett puts on a burst of speed to get in front of the van, and then she angles her Crown Vic into Nazihah's path, forcing the young woman to a dead stop.

Once Beckett reassures her that her baby is safe, she gets her out of the van. Castle's already opening the back doors, and yelling for her.

* * *

The timer is still counting down, only 1 minute 51 seconds left on the clock.

"Dispatch, this is One-Lincoln-Forty," she rattles off into her portable radio. "We found the bomb on 55th and 11th."

Castle calculates that they're only two blocks from Beth Israel Medical Center, quickly realizing that if this thing goes off, none of that will matter anymore, because a sizeable potion of Manhattan will no longer exist, them included.

Dispatch confirms that the bomb squad is en route, but still three minutes out.

"Dispatch, that's about two minutes too late," says Beckett, staring first at the clock, which now has only a minute and a half left, before locking eyes with her partner.

Castle feels terrified, thinks he probably looks terrified, so far beyond the point of being able to hide his feelings from Kate by now.

Beckett calls Agent Fallon, asks him if he knows how to diffuse a bomb. He's racing to get to them, but needs to see it before he can help, so Beckett takes a couple of pictures on her phone and sends them to him, while the two partners stare at the countdown clock, hearts beating in sync with the flashing red digital display.

They're down to 45 seconds by the time the photos go through, and Castle leans into the back of the van, studying the maze of wires; the spaghetti-like tangle of red, blue and white that hooks the timer and the detonator up to the barrels of radioactive explosive.

When they hit the 30 second mark, Fallon admits defeat - that he can't see anything that will help them - and so they are left alone with the bomb, each other, and one last word, "Sorry," as the traffic continues to thunder past them.

* * *

Beckett looks devastated. The clock is ticking past 15 seconds, and they look to one another again. She whispers, "Castle," her large hazel eyes finding his fear-filled blue ones.

Castle takes her hand in his, thinking this is definitely it for them: the end that they've been dragged towards one too many times for this not to be the last.

He lifts their joined hands, tears in his eyes, and Beckett gives him the barest nod, along with a look of acceptance or forgiveness, he's not sure which, only that she's standing with him once more, and they might be facing down the worst that can happen, but at least they're doing it together; they're diving in.

And right at the very last second, he tears his eyes away from her face to grasp all of the wiring in his free hand. No elegance, no precision, no steady hand to carefully select just the right wire with surgeon-like exactitude and a trusty pair of cutters. No, in trademark Castle style, he just yanks the lot right out in one fell swoop, desperately hoping and praying for the best.

They brace themselves for the impact of bomb going off, shying away from the blast, each of them still holding on tightly to the other's hand. But there's only a brief flash and a crackle, some sparking as if an electric circuit just shorted out, accompanied by a pathetic puff of smoke, and then…nothing. Silence.

* * *

The clock has stopped at exactly 00:00:00. Beckett lets out a loud moan, along with the breath she was holding, and then she yells out, "_Castle_", in utter relief, and throws her self at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in the fiercest hug.

They moan and laugh together, and then they pull apart to stare at the back of the van again to make sure it really is over; the bomb is not going to detonate.

Castle yells, "_Yes!_" at the bomb and double fist pumps the air, while Beckett hangs onto his shoulder with one hand, so overwhelmed by nerves that she needs him to stay upright.

Then he points at the bomb with a fierce look that says, '_I totally schooled you'_ and turns in a tight little circle, pumped like never before, just overflowing with pure adrenalin, while Beckett bursts out laughing at her partner's antics, overcome with sheer relief.

* * *

When he calms down, he turns to look at Kate again, and she has tears coursing down her cheeks, elation giving way to shock and vivid visions of what might have been, of how close they came.

"Hey, hey," he says, touching her shoulder. "We won."

"Oh, Castle," she chokes, her voice watery and embarrassed.

"Come here," he says, drawing her into his arms for a softer hug this time, burying his face in her neck, stroking her hair, absorbing every second of this that he can before things have to revert to normal.

She tightens her arms around him, and they're still standing like that when Agent Fallon's car pulls to a halt a few feet away, and the man gets out, but stays by his car to give them a minute.

"I thought that was it," she hiccups, her gloved fingers grasping on tightly to the back of his coat, gripping fistfuls of wool.

"Never," he says, half-promise, half-lie. Because, truth be told, he thought so too.

"Are you lying to me?" laughs Beckett, pulling out of his embrace to look at his face.

"Beckett, would I lie to you?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"Wouldn't be the first time," she counters, poking him in the side.

"I resemble that remark," jokes Castle, drawing a groan from his partner.

He smiles softly at her, tenderly wipes the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. He so badly wants to kiss her, to hold her in his arms, to never let her go ever again. But they are still a mess of uncertainty, and then Agent Fallon is approaching, clearing his throat as they hear the bomb squad screeching to a halt behind Fallon's car.

"We need to talk," Beckett tells him hurriedly, grabbing for his hand when he backs away. "Castle?" she hisses, giving him a pleading look.

"Talk? Sure," he nods, disappointment written all over his face and in the slump of his shoulders, as he turns to head for her car.

"Just…let me deal with this first, okay?" she calls after him, wanting to fix things right now, as she watches him settle into her passenger seat.

Only Agent Fallon is there, demanding her attention once more.

* * *

_A/N: The bomb defusal scene in Countdown is one of my all time favorite Castle scenes because I think these two actors portray the emotion of that situation so realistically. Nathan's comedic touch is brilliantly delivered and Stana's laughter is out of the ball park realistic._

_So, things are going to get interesting now that the bomb is out of the way. This story is called 'Setting Up for Something', so I know we've covered a lot of familiar ground in the last three chapters, but I hope you've noticed the changes I've made to their story here and there. More to come in the next chapter. And, yes, (blushes again) there is another chapter. Liv_


	4. Chapter 4 Let Me Buy You Breakfast

Disclaimer: Includes some of the original ABC script from Ep. 3x17 of Castle. No copyright infringement is meant. And no financial gain sought.

* * *

_**Setting Up For Something**_

_Chapter 4: Let Me Buy You Breakfast_

Fallon wants them all back at the precinct to tie up the loose ends before he heads back to Washington, so their talk is put off a little longer.

When Castle and Beckett step out of the elevator and into the bullpen, the applause starts up and it doesn't subside until Castle takes a bow that is truly Martha Rogers-worthy, and then he grabs Kate's hand and forces her to do the same.

The cheers and the whistles and catcalls that follow put a smile back on his face, and Kate is grateful that the look of disappointment she saw when Fallon interrupted them out on the street seems to have disappeared for now. She has some things to take care of, and then they can talk.

* * *

The boys and Montgomery have quite the little party waiting for them in the conference room, and while Fallon goes off to call his boss and fill the Mayor and the Commissioner in on today's outcome, the gang gathers for beer and war stories.

Kate is holding court, standing at the top of the table with her back to the wall and a beer bottle in her hand, while the guys have settled around the table. She's smiling and laughing as she recounts the terrifying ordeal they just went through with the confident bravado of someone who knows they've survived to fight another day. Castle is the key player, the hero, in her retelling of exactly how they saved Manhattan from the dirty bomb.

"No, you should've seen his face. Because he stopped, he looked at me, he grabbed all the wires and then he just yanked them," she tells the guys, acting out Castle's courageous, last ditch attempt to save them, laughing all the while at her partner's brave, but unorthodox style.

Her eyes are dancing and she can't stop looking over at Castle.

"All of them?" asks Ryan, disbelieving.

"I figured one of them had to be the right one," shrugs Castle, looking way cooler than he felt at the time, taking another swig of beer and enjoying this rare praise from Kate, getting to bask in the glory of her storytelling for once.

"You know, the Mayor wants to give you guys a medal. I don't have the heart to tell him you had no clue what you were doing," Captain Montgomery tells them, and they all fall about laughing.

When the laughter subsides, things turn a little more serious, a little more introspective.

"Captain's right," Esposito tells them both. "You guys don't know how lucky you are."

Castle and Beckett look at each other. And there is so much love in Castle's eyes, so much devotion and affection for his partner, and it doesn't go unnoticed by the rest of the men in the room. But, that she is looking back at him with equal affection, no one could deny either.

"Actually, I do," Castle says, hoping he's a lucky as he feels, and though he's answering Esposito's statement, his response is directed only at Kate.

He's trying to tell her something, and for once she look as if she's listening, as if maybe she agrees with him, understands, is on exactly the same page of their story, until his direct gaze makes her blush and she has to look away. Because if all he ever gets is to remain by this woman's side, serving with and protecting her, then he hopes he is big hearted enough to feel lucky that he at least gets to have that.

But then Agent Fallon is at the door asking to speak to the two of them, and suddenly the party is breaking up.

* * *

"Can I talk to you two for a second?" he asks, and they follow him out into the hallway, and Beckett closes the door behind them. "I just want you two to know the U.S. Attorney's Office is going to be charging them with multiple counts of conspiracy to commit terror," he informs them. "Thanks to you two, we won't have to add murder of innocent New Yorkers to that allegation."

It is a thank you and an apology rolled into one, and the partners gratefully accept, still on too much of a high to care much for praise.

"Well, we were just doing our job," says Beckett, before turning to make fun of Castle. "Actually, I was doing my job. I don't know what the hell he was doing," she jokes.

"Hey," protests Castle, still riding his own crest of emotion. "But that's true," he admits with a laugh, deferring to his partner.

Fallon makes an attempt at peacemaking, an apology of sorts for his behavior during the case.

"Listen, um... what I do is not who I am. It's just how I have to be. I hope you both understand that?"

Though not letting him off the hook completely, Beckett offers a concession.

"Why don't we just say, 'It was a pleasure.' And that we hope that we don't have to do it again?" she suggests, eager to get the man out of their hair and get on with things.

"Fair enough," agrees the Agent, before walking away.

Ever the comic, Castle calls after him, "If it does happen again, though, maybe you could just text me. Have a code word. _Run!_" he jokes.

Then he turns back to Beckett with a contented sigh, both of them still with big, ridiculous smiles on their faces.

"Hell of a day, huh?" he says to his partner, eyes twinkling with humor and affection.

"Hell of a day," agrees Beckett, with no small amount of passion.

"You know, I was thinking... I was thinking maybe…" begins Castle, getting closer to her, clearly some non-work suggestion on his mind.

And right at this moment, Beckett looks to him as if she is open to anything he might suggest right now. Her eyes are locked on his, just waiting for him to tell her what happens next, to write the next lines for both of them.

But then from further down the hallway Castle sees Josh approaching, and he shuts down.

"I should go home. Get some rest. Long day. Goodnight," he says abruptly, doing a complete one-eighty, watching the light go out of Kate's eyes, her smile disappear only to be replaced with disappointment and confusion.

"Castle?" she says, reaching a hand out to stop him.

He nods, backing away. His eyes travelling in Josh's direction, alerting Kate to the reason for this hasty departure, when she turns to look over her shoulder and finds the doctor hovering a desk space away.

"Just give me a minute," she says hastily to Josh, before pursuing Castle towards the elevator.

* * *

"Rick," she says sharply, catching him by the elbow. "We have to talk. Please…don't go?"

"Beckett, what do you want?" he snaps, wheeling around sharply when she touches him.

But he watches her plough on undaunted by this agressive challenge.

"A chance," she says, giving him a hopeful look. "Just…a chance...to explain at least."

"Look. I'm exhausted. We haven't slept in two days, and your boy is over there waiting for you. Shouldn't you be working on fixing that? '_Diving in together' _or something. Isn't that what you called it?" he asks, his pain making him sound petty, spiteful, and sarcastic.

"Please, stay?" she asks again, trying to ignore the hurt in his voice. "Wait with the boys, hmm? I promise it will be worth your while," she says, squeezing his elbow in encouragement. "Just give me ten minutes to deal with this? And if you don't like what I have to say, I'll never ask you for anything again."

He sighs, so tempted just to go home and lick his wounds in private, needing the comfort of his own bed and a bottle of Scotch. But then she lets her hand fall from his elbow and slide down his arm all the way to his hand, and the pleading in her eyes that accompanies this gesture, along with the plain fact they he has never been able to refuse this woman anything and she asks him for so little, has him following her into the bullpen.

He nods curtly at Josh on his way past, and then goes back into the conference room to be greeted by very curious glances from the boys and Montgomery, who are still drinking and laughing over a tale about the newest recruit to Robbery who just got his car stolen during an undercover op.

* * *

"What's that all about?" asks Ryan, tipping his beer bottle towards the bullpen, where they can see Beckett talking to Josh through the glass.

"Whatever it is looks serious," says Esposito, swiveling round to watch them.

"Why don't we just give them a little privacy," suggests Montgomery, eyeing Castle, trying to decipher the sullen look on his face, wondering where his earlier ebullience has gone and if it has anything to do with the yelling match he overheard in the containment tent a couple of days ago between the writer and his best detective.

* * *

"It's him, isn't it?" says Josh, nodding in Castle's direction, his face like stone. "I knew it."

"Him? What are you talking about?" asks Beckett, playing dumb, because she hates this part, has been putting it off for longer than she can admit to herself.

"_He's_ the reason you're breaking up with me. The writer. Your so-called_ 'partner'_. The guy who wouldn't know where the line was if it jumped up and hit him in the face. He nearly got you killed, Kate, in that freezer. Do you know how close you came? _Do you?_" he challenges, chasing after her gaze when she won't meet his eyes.

"And it's not the first time his stupidity has led you into danger either," he reminds her.

"I'm a big girl, Josh. I make my own decisions," she points out. "I take calculated risks, not reckless chances. It's not possible do this job from behind the safety of a desk, despite how much you'd like for that to be the case."

"He got you thrown off a Federal task force, Kate. Or have you forgotten that too? He puts your career and your life on the line with this pretend cop routine. The guy's an idiot playing at make-believe, as if life is like one of his damn books. I honestly don't know what you see in him," he says angrily.

"He's my partner," replies Kate coldly. "And he's always there for me whenever I need him and even when I don't. And despite what you might think, he saved a lot of lives today, demonstrated more courage than most men show in a lifetime. He puts me first. Always. Has done for the last fours years. I doubt you can compete with that. But then you shouldn't have to, and neither should he."

"So your mind is made up?" asks the doctor, his anger turning cold.

"I should have done this a long time ago, Josh. I haven't been fair to either of you. I'm sorry. This is not your fault. You're a really great guy and I know you'll make someone very happy."

"Just not you?" he says, bitterly.

Kate shakes her head.

"I need more than you can give, and I'd never ask that of anyone. Castle…he just _wants_ to be there for me. That's the difference. There is no choosing one over the other, job or partner. He's just…always there."

"Like some faithful hound," notes Josh sarcastically. "Sounds kind of expedient, Kate. Hardly the stuff great romance is made of," he argues.

Kate turns to glance through the glass of the conference room, sees Castle doing his best to ignore them and join in with the guy talk instead. But she can see the disappointment on his face when the mask slips now and again.

"Actually, it seems we've been writing a great romance without giving it a name or a second thought. It just took three near death experiences for me to see just how deeply into this story we already are," Kate confesses, her eyes never leaving Castle. "But that's my fault, not his. And it's certainly not yours. I am sorry," she says, reaching out to touch his arm.

* * *

Castle can't help but see what's going on outside the room, and when Josh hugs Kate, his stomach hits the floor. He watches the surgeon handing her something, and then turn to walk away. But not before throwing one final glance in the writer's direction.

Beckett walks over to her desk and picks up her bag, and then she grabs her coat and slips it on. Castle assumes she's leaving with the doctor, that whatever she needed to speak to him about is sorted, and he gets stiffly out of his chair, feeling humiliated with the sympathetic eyes of the guys on him.

"Time to head home for some well deserved rest, I think," he says bravely, trying to hide his disappointment from his friends.

"See ya', Castle," says Ryan, raising his beer bottle in salute to the writer.

"Take a couple of days off. You've earned it," Montgomery tells him. "That's what I'll be telling Detective Beckett too," he adds pointedly, raising his eyebrows at Castle and hoping the guy finally takes the hint.

"Go hug your kid, bro," adds Esposito, fist-bumping the writer.

Beckett appears at the glass doors with her coat on just as Castle is about to exit.

"Are you ready to go?" she asks him, while the three men look on as if they have front row seats to the performance of a brand new play.

"Go?" asks Castle, confused. "Go where?"

"Well, I thought maybe you could use some breakfast?" she suggests, giving the guys a nod that says 'show's over boys' as she leads Castle out into the bullpen for a little more privacy.

* * *

"Where's Josh?" he asks, looking around. "Aren't you going home with him?"

"We broke up," Kate tells him simply, walking over to her desk to collect her bag.

A jolt of something entirely too hopeful shoots through him when he hears these three unexpected little words.

"When?" he asks warily, watching her turn around to explain herself.

"This morning. Before…when he called. Not my finest hour, I grant you. Doing it over the phone. But it had to be done, and we were kind of…_busy_ at the time," she says in a massive understatement, a small apologetic smile on her face.

"So…just now?" asks Castle, frowning at his memory of what he thought just he witnessed pass between them.

"He came to return my key…and to say goodbye."

"Wow! That's…that _is_ news," says Castle, running a hand through his hair, trying not to show his cautious delight.

She asked him in the containment tent two days, and what already feels like a lifetime ago, what it would mean for them if she had no boyfriend, and now she has made it happen. He just wonders if maybe it's too soon to be talking about what happens next, if the breakup is still too raw for her. He decides to give her an out in case she needs it.

"But, I should probably still go. Give you some time to…" he shrugs, scuffing the ground with the toe of his shoe.

And suddenly these words sound so weak in face of the massive gesture she's just made, and he hates himself for being so chivalrous. But he would never want her to think that he's the kind of guy who would be prepared to hop into another man's shoes so hastily, without giving her space to deal with the end of her relationship if she needs to.

But Kate apparently is having none of that.

"To _what_? Mourn something I should never have started in the first place?" she asks sharply, standing her ground, determined not to let him walk out of here without her today.

"These last two days, Castle, we were almost irradiated, we were locked in a freezer where we almost died, and then nearly vaporized by a dirty bomb. No more waiting. The universe is screaming at us to get on and do this," she says, reaching out to touch his hand, to get his eyes to migrate up from the floor.

"Kate, you don't even believe in any of that stuff. Signs, fate, the universe?" he reminds her.

"No, maybe not. But you do, and I believe in you," she tells him. "And maybe…maybe these signs are getting just a little too big to ignore," she adds with a soft smile.

* * *

He considers her for a moment. She does look as if she has no doubts about this. Heck, she's the one doing the persuading. And she absolutely does not sound like a woman on the rebound either.

"So, breakfast?" offers Kate again, a hopeful smile on her face.

"Breakfast would imply that we'd actually been to bed, detective," quips Castle, recovering his composure and just a little of his usual swagger, wild excitement beginning to hammer in his chest.

Kate smirks, and looks away briefly, before looking right back at him.

"Oh. _Oh!_" groans Castle, embarrassed. "I just meant that we haven't slept in two days and…I'm not making a very good job of this," he tells her, floundering under her unwavering gaze and her beautiful, bewitching smile.

"I think you're doing just fine," Kate tells him fondly, aware of Montgomery still watching them through the conference room window.

"Remy's then?" he suggests, turning towards the elevator, as Kate falls in step beside him.

"Actually, would you mind if we went back to your place?" she asks, exhaustion beginning to tug at her once more, the buzz from the beer and the aftereffects of adrenalin quickly wearing off.

"Well, I do have a refrigerator so fully stocked we could outlast a nuclear winter," he jokes, trying to hide his surprise that she wants to come home with him before they've even had a chance to talk any of this through.

"And Martha and Alexis are still in the Hamptons?" she checks, making a blush of pure expectant pleasure creep up Castle's neck.

"Indeed they are," he confirms, glancing down at her, as the elevator doors close on them.

"Good. No more interruptions," Kate boldly points out, bumping his shoulder playfully, and then she strides out of the elevator ahead of him, leaving him standing slack-jawed and speechless inside the car, before she turns, smiles sweetly, lowers her lashes, and calls out, "You coming, Castle?" over her shoulder, in the most clear-cut come on he's ever seen her throw his way.

This time he doesn't have to be asked twice.

* * *

_A/N: This story could carry on. I was thinking we at least see them talk about what happens next for them at Castle's loft. But feel free to step off the train at this station if you think it has run its course. Wouldn't want to overstay my welcome. Thoughts? Liv_


	5. Chapter 5 You're So Metrosexual Darling

Disclaimer: Now in completely AU territory. All dialogue is my own. Characters still belong to ABC, however. Such a shame.

* * *

**_Setting Up For Something_**

_Chapter 5: You're So Metrosexual Darling_

They ride home to _his_ loft in _her_ car. The silence isn't what he'd exactly call comfortable. Not yet. But then it isn't strained either, more full of possibility and portent.

Eduardo opens the door to Castle's building for them, bowing and fussing over Kate, puzzling a little to see the pair of them home this early in the day. He winks at Castle behind Kate's back just before they step into the elevator, and if she sees the older man's gesture in the generous lobby mirrors, she doesn't let on, just walks in ahead of her partner when he ushers her inside.

* * *

Castle drops his keys twice while trying to jamb them into the front door; his hands are shaking so badly.

"Overdose of adrenalin," comments Kate, kindly. "As in the kind of adrenalin rush disarming a dirty bomb might give you."

"Disarming?" laughs Castle, finally managing to insert the key and turn it in the lock. "I think you're being a little generous with that description."

"Okay, yanking? No, no, wait. How about just wrecking?" she laughs, stumbling into his back as a wave of exhaustion hits her.

"Hey, think you might have your own adrenalin overdose going on back there," he says, turning to catch her by the elbow.

"That really was one hell of a day," she remarks, taking off her coat and passing it to him when he holds his hand out to take it from her.

"Try three. I can't remember the last time my head hit the pillow."

"Why Mr. Castle, what are you suggesting," smirks Kate, toying with him purely for fun, because right now she is just too goddamn exhausted for much more than sleep herself.

"I…uh…well, if you must know, I was actually going to suggest that we might want to eat first and then maybe later we can talk?" he explains, walking towards his kitchen, feeling just a little out of his depth with this new forthright Kate in tow.

"I know you're just a man," Kate teases, following him into the kitchen. "But let me let you into a little secret. There is this one thing that woman often do," she says, licking her lips slowly, and then biting her lower one so that the pink flesh turns white, as if she's about to give away the secret of the century, beckoning him closer all the while.

Castle can't tear his eyes away. He's not even scared she's going to tell him off for staring at her, because it looks as if she kind of likes having his eyes on her mouth all of a sudden, and what the hell?

"A…a th-thing?" he stammers, finding himself licking his own lips in time with hers.

"Mmm-hmm," hums Kate, running a finger over her damp, swollen mouth. "Yeah, it's called…_multitasking_," she whispers, smirking. "You might have heard of it, Castle. Anyway, in _woman-land_ we often talk _and_ eat at the same time," she suggest, laughing when he shakes his head at her and rolls his eyes, "Saves time. Lets you…uh…cut to the chase," she adds, suggestively, arching a well-shaped eyebrow.

"Cruel, Beckett. _Way cruel_. And after I saved your ass too."

"Saved my…?" she scoffs. "You lucked out. We both did. There wasn't much skill involved, '_Mr. Bomb Squad'_. Just a heck of a lot of good fortune."

"I think maybe you forgot bravery, Beckett," he adds, leaning on the counter, his whole body canted towards hers. "Luckily the Mayor hasn't, since he wants to pin those medals on us."

"You and me at a medal's ceremony. Who'd have thought it, huh? When I had to arrest you all those years ago, Castle?" she sighs, smiling.

"Yeah, looks like you might finally have scared me straight," he admits, with a chuckle.

"Scared you somethin'," she smirks, rounding the counter to come towards him.

* * *

"Did we really almost die three times in two days?" asks Castle, after a quiet pause, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Shhh," hushes Kate, touching his arm. "Don't…don't think about that. No point looking back. Let's just go forward."

She lets her finger roam up and down his bare forearm, while they both watch, transfixed, and then she looks up into Castle's eyes and smiles.

"Hold me?" she asks quietly, getting closer still.

"Oh, Kate," sighs Castle, standing tall and wrapping his arms around her just like he did out on the street after the bomb, and she immediately steps into his embrace, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder until she settles, while he kisses her hair and strokes her back.

"I've wanted this for such a long time," she admits, her voice barely more than a whisper, as she molds herself into him. "I just don't think I knew how to ask. How to get us from there to here."

"You're not alone in any of that, Kate. The wanting, the wishing…I had no clue how to make it happen either."

"We've wasted so much time. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, this is not all your fault. You…you were the one who finally got us here. You made it happen. What we do next is for both of us to decide, right?"

"I know what I want," declares Kate, kissing the underside of Castle's jaw.

"What's that?" he croaks, arms tightening around her as they dance on the spot.

"What we talked about in that tent…before Montgomery…someone who'll be there for me and I can be there for him and…"

"We can dive into it together," they both say in unison, eyes growing wide, scared, but determined to be brave.

"You've been there for me, Castle. For so long. I want a chance to be there for you."

"Can you just say that again so I can record it and play it back, over and over again, because, Kate…I doubt that anything you could say to me would make me happier right now."

"How about…" she smiles, leaning back in his arms, "…kiss me, Castle?"

So he does.

* * *

There's a jolt of electricity, an actual spark, when their lips connect, and Castle startles, holding her tighter, afraid to let go incase he wakes up and this amazing women in his arms, who he has loved since when he can't quite remember, just vanishes.

They both moan when she teases his lips with the tip of her tongue and he opens his mouth to let her lazily stroke inside, to begin to explore what they've both been denying to themselves for far too long.

"Oh god," gasps Castle, when they finally pull apart.

His heart is pounding with the feel of her under his hands, her gentle touch, the smell of her hair and skin up close, how soft and slender and willing she is in his arms.

"Kissing you is just as good as I remember," she grins, ghosting her lips over his chin. "Better even, without some creepy guy with a gun watching us…though that did feel kinda kinky at the time," she jokes.

Castle laughs, a bubble of pure joy escaping his chest, and then he kisses her forehead, before letting her go.

"So…" he says, taking her hands in his.

"So?" repeats Kate, her eyes dancing dangerously.

"Way I figure it, Uncle Roy gave us a couple of days off. So, we can turn off our phones, make something to eat, talk, sleep…whatever you want."

"I think you missed something out there, partner," she replies, really pushing the envelope.

"Oh, no, not paperwork," groans Castle, smacking his own forehead and then laughing with her when she bumps him with her hip.

"Be serious for a second."

"Okay. This is me…being serious," promises Castle, running a hand down over his face and straightening it as he goes. "I just don't want you to rush into something you might regret later."

"You mean because of Josh," says Kate, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Kate, you guys just broke up," he points out.

"Yes, over you," reminds Kate, poking him in the chest. "Rick, I want this. I've wanted it for a long time. This is…it's not some rebound fling. I can promise you that. I…I'm not going to suddenly change my mind. And I'm not going to hurt you either," she adds gravely, taking his hand.

"I know," says Castle, just a little too quickly to be convincing.

"But do you? Do you really? Because I know that…that I haven't always been there for you, that you've been a way better partner to me than I ever deserved, Castle. But I want to make it up to you. I want us to have a fresh start."

"I want that too. So much."

"Good," she nods definitively. "Then let's make some breakfast, because it does not feel like six-thirty at night to me at all. And then…if you really want," she grins, tugging on his collar and lightly kissing the side of his mouth until he hums his approval and his fingers tighten on her waist. "We can talk some more."

* * *

They make pancakes, doing things ass backwards as with the rest of their relationship, and then they pile their plates high with berries and crispy bacon, and they sit down at the counter together to enjoy this unusually timed meal.

"So, wanna try a little multitasking?" asks Kate, nudging his thigh with her knee.

"You really think I'm ready for that?" asks Castle, hamming it up big time with a large doze of fake surprise.

"Well, you are kind of a metrosexual," she teases, and he plays along, gasping in mock-horror. "So, you might just have the multitasking gene after all."

"Just what are you insinuating, Detective?" asks Castle, boldly resting his hand on her knee, his thumb lightly stroking the inseam of her work pants where her skin is at its most sensitive.

"Not insinuating, merely stating a well documented fact. Your…uh…_beauty_ routine looks…"

"Woah! My…my _beauty_ routine?" coughs Castle, while Kate giggles in delight.

"Mmm, best groomed male I ever laid eyes on."

"Yeah, _groomed_. Groomed is _way_ better. And what's all this about well documented? Since when have you even been privy to my beaut…eh…grooming rituals?"

"Oh, rituals are they?" smirks Kate.

"Focus on the question please, Detective?" he demands, as if in Interrogation Room 2.

"Well, there's all those photographs of you on the internet for starters. Not a hair out of place, clean-shaven or…mmm," she hums, with evident pleasure, "with the designer scruff. Plus Page 6, back of your dust jackets…need I go on?"

"Been Googling me, Kate?" he teases, making her blush.

"No. Sadly, no time for Googling, and no need either, since I get to watch the real life Rick Castle in glorious Technicolor almost every day," she tells him fondly.

"Just for that…" he says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, "I might let you off with the dishes."

"My hero," smiles Kate, holding his hand against her cheek and ducking her head.

"I try," he admits, with way more sincerity than he means to, because the way she's looking at him right now, he might just end up confessing that he loves her and it's too soon, he guesses. Way to soon.

* * *

They clear up together, muddling along in his massive kitchen, standing way closer than they need to. And Kate finds herself watching where everything goes, memorizing the contents of drawers and cupboards for future reference, and the realization that she wants this no longer scares her.

"Couch?" suggests Castle, when everything is tidied away.

Kate yawns and stretches, and Castle can't tear his eyes away from the thin line of bare skin that is exposed when her blue turtleneck rides up a little over her stomach.

"I…I know this might sound really…um," Kate pauses, biting her lip nervously.

"Hey, just say it," Castle encourages her. "Whatever it is. Please?"

"Forward," she says. "I was going to say _forward_. Because, I don't know about you, but I am really beat and…"

"And…?" Castle prompts, hoping this is going in the direction he suspects it might.

"Could we go to bed? Just for a few hours? At least until my brain doesn't think it's still supposed to be making me shiver just to keep warm?"

"You too?" asks Castle, as another chill raises Goosebumps on his skin.

Kate nods, rubbing her own arms in an effort to stay warm.

"Look, please don't take this the wrong way?" says Castle, wrapping her up in a hug, his chin pressed to the top of her head. "But, if you want, the guest room is all made up. You can sleep upstairs, if...if you prefer tonight?"

"And option two would be?" she asks, smiling helplessly and hiding it against the warm, soft cotton of Castle's shirt.

"To…to…uh…come share with me."

"And you would prefer…?" she kids, looking up to see the excruciating dilemma written all over his face.

Because he is still trying to be chivalrous and patient, when all he really wants to do is keep her with him the whole, night long.

"Come to bed with me, Kate?" he blurts, and she laughs, hiding her face once more. "We can keep each other warm and…no funny business, I promise. Unless…" he adds, doing a little teasing of his own.

"Unless?" she smirks.

"Later. Come on. Let's go lie down."

* * *

He takes her by the hand and leads her into his bedroom for the very first time.

He only lets go of her to turn on a lamp, light a scented candle, and then he begins dragging a few items of clothing out of his drawers.

When he turns around, Kate is already turning down the comforter and sliding beneath the covers wearing only her underwear - a beautiful, matching set in blueberry colored silk that highlights her pale, flawless skin.

"Eh…I was going to…" he hesitates, holding up a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers. "But…I can see that you're good," he adds, standing by the foot of his own bed looking more than a little dumb-struck.

"Castle, just hurry up and get in here," Kate complains, thumping his pillow to get comfortable and pulling the comforter up to her chin. "I'm freezing."

He strips his shirt off, cursing when he can't get his hands out of the cuffs without undoing the tiny, fiddly little buttons. He flicks his belt open with a sharp crack of leather whipping against leather, accompanied by the tinkling of the belt buckle, and then his pants are on the floor in a puddle around his ankles. He sheds his undershirt over his head just before climbing into bed beside her wearing only his boxer shorts, thanking God and whichever other deities might have been involved in the good fortune that made him choose navy blue silk today over the vast collection of comedy boxers Alexis has given him as gifts on many birthdays and Christmases.

* * *

"You picked the right side," he tells Kate, her face only visible from the nose up now, since she's buried herself beneath the covers in an attempt to keep warm.

"I'm a detective, remember," she murmurs, rolling over to face him.

"And?" asks Castle, finding this just a tad awkward, but unsure whether or not to say something. "You can't leave it there."

"The alarm clock. Unless you frequently share your bed with someone else, which I have to say I'm kind of banking on you not doing at this point, then you sleep on that side."

"My bed has been a lonely, tumble weed strewn place for quite a while, as you yourself pointed out yesterday."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I was…_rude_."

"You were right though. I have been waiting, Kate. For you. Didn't think I stood a chance, but..." he sighs, turning on his side to face her too.

"This is our chance. Now. Forget before. Before was…we had our training wheels on, Castle. We were getting to know one another, learning to trust. We were…"

She tilts her head to the side to look at him, her eyes shamelessly roaming his face, before settling on his mouth.

"What?" he asks, tipping her chin up so that he can see her eyes again, which glint golden brown in the candle light.

"I was falling in love," she confesses, stretching forward to kiss him lightly on the lips, before she turns her back and draws him around her, wrapping her own body up in his arms.

"Warm me up?" she asks, in the smallest voice he's ever heard her use, blown away by her confession and her openness and her trust in him.

And how can he refuse a request like that?

* * *

_A/N: Short a/n this time, since someone complained before about my rambling. Carrying on with the story since everyone is still happily joining hands and riding the 'Liv train' (thanks to BlueOrchid96 for that delightful little joke. I'm still singing!). _

_Anyway, onwards…to M territory I suspect, and hell, probably! Liv_


	6. Chapter 6 In Search Of Lost Time

Disclaimer: I doubt AWM has to find euphemisms for intimate body parts. Nah, didn't think so. Tricker than you might expect.

* * *

_**WARNING: Please note the change of rating to M. Not suitable for reading in the workplace, unless you work from home, in which case have fun!**_

* * *

_**Setting Up For Something**_

_Chapter 6: In Search of Lost Time_

Castle is lying in his bed with a close-to-naked Kate Beckett in his arms, and he thinks he is quite possibly having the best out of body experience of his life.

When they were trapped inside the freezer and Kate fell unconscious in his arms he feared that she was dying, and he hates to admit it to himself - because it was cowardly and thoughtless and selfish since he has a family to think of - but right before help arrived, he kind of gave up. He let himself fall asleep, succumb to the cold, stopped fighting it's powerful drag on his brain, since Kate had left him and life didn't seem worth living anymore, not without her in it.

But right now, this exact moment is a reminder that all things are possible in his future, and so he must never ever again give up trying, give up holding on to the edge of reason as long as there is the barest glimmer of hope left. Because when he thinks about missing out on the chance to have this…

* * *

"What are you thinking about?" asks a sleepy voice, interrupting his morbid, guilty thoughts, the sound tickling his chest where the back of her ribcage meets the front of his and the vibrations pass through both of them.

And seriously, when did she get this close?

"Castle?" she prompts, when he doesn't answer her.

He kisses her shoulder, burying his nose under the covers to do so, catching the combined scent of their warm bodies in the air trapped underneath; a mixture of her light, floral top notes and his muskier, woody ones.

"I…just…" he sighs, before shutting off.

How do you even explain this? I gave up on life because I thought you had died, even when all we were to one another was partners and you were already with someone else? Is that how this goes? Sounds a lot more like 'how not to woo a woman' to his mind.

"Please…tell me?" she asks, twisting round to look at him. "We've never had a chance to do this properly before. Be there for one another after a rough case, Castle. We can do that for each other now."

"I was thinking about the freezer," he confesses, giving in to her request, rubbing his cheek against the top of her spine, soaking in her warmth and the softness of her skin.

His stubble has regrown, despite having shaved quickly when he dropped home for a shower, and she sighs loudly and squirms in his arms at the light, scratching sensation against her skin.

"Sorry," he apologizes, stopping immediately.

"No. I like it. Please don't stop," Kate tells him, leaning back against him.

And with this confession, Castle realizes that, as much as he knows this woman – her moods and tells, her facial expressions, her coffee order and her love of shrimp lo mein - there is still so much that he doesn't know about her. Like how to touch her, where, what she likes…

"So, the freezer. Tell me?" says Kate, interrupting his little performance anxiety attack.

"This is…Kate, do we have to do this now?"

"Talking can help," she says, and he doesn't want to point out the sweet irony: that this advice is rich coming from the one woman he knows who likes to bottle it up tighter than anyone else; seal that jar lid on so tight that nothing is getting in or out.

"As someone who talks rather a lot, yes, I do know. I just don't think you need to hear my darkest thoughts right now."

"Worried you'll ruin the mood?" she teases gently, nudging her elbow against his ribs.

"Kate, we're supposed to be catching up on sleep."

"We have two whole days to catch up on sleep. Talk to me. Neither of us will get any sleep otherwise."

He sighs, thinks maybe she has a point, and maybe he also isn't ready to let her go, to lose her to sleep just yet, he wants her with him as long as possible tonight to convince himself that this is real.

* * *

"I…I thought…" he pauses, takes a breath. "It felt as if you…I thought you were dead, okay? In the freezer, I thought you had died. So, I just…I kind of gave up. I stopped trying to fight the cold. I wanted to fall asleep. I couldn't do anymore to help you, so I just wanted it to be over," he confesses, eventually turning his head away from her, mashing his cheek into the pillow, face burning with shame at how weak and pathetic he thinks he sounds.

"And when I think that I could have missed out on now. On this…" he stops, looking up when he feels her turn fully to face him. "If I had lost you, Kate, I couldn't have lived with myself."

"But it wasn't your fault," she points out, tears shining in her eyes as she runs her thumb over his eyebrow and down across his cheekbone.

"Who was to blame doesn't matter. Don't you see? I didn't want to go on without you because I'm so much in love with you, Kate, that my own _daughter_, my own _family_, came second to that."

"No, Castle," she sobs, throwing her arms around his neck, and their bodies meet fully for the first time, skin-to-skin, shocking them both.

It should be dulled by grief over what might have been, over guilt and remorse, her pity and his shame. Instead, it's charged with so much repressed sexual desire and need that they both groan loudly at the connection their bodies make, and when Castle's knee pushes between Kate's thighs to allow them to get even closer, all hell breaks loose.

* * *

Her mouth is so hot and so needy, and her tongue seems to be everywhere at once. She nips his lower lip with her teeth, and he grunts in pain, reveling in how alive she makes him feel.

"We're still here, Castle," she hisses, her mouth now so close to his ear, as she arches her body up against his. "We're still here."

"God, you're so beautiful," he tells her, allowing his hands to roam up and down her sides, fingertips mapping her shape – the smooth, long, outline of her torso, her curves and soft places, all hidden from him for far too long by shielding layers of expensive clothing.

She draws her lips along the line of his jaw, shivering when the rough prickle of his scruff tickles her tongue as she lets it trail lazily over skin and bone.

Then she sucks on his earlobe, teasing it into her mouth, pulsing it hotly between her palate and the soft flesh of her tongue a few times, and Castle feels a jolt of arousal shoot straight to his groin at the things she is doing to him.

"Jeez, Kate," he curses, as she transfers her attention to his neck, the sensitive skin that slopes softly down towards his collarbone.

They writhe against one another, a slow, experimental climb to some mysterious, long awaited vantage point; a beauty spot they have determinedly vowed to see together without ever sharing the words or the plan.

She's riding his thigh he realizes, when he feels the warm dampness of her arousal seeping through the silk of her panties as she presses against the hard muscle of his leg, seeking pleasure from the friction his body can give her. When she slides down from dropping a light, fluttering kiss to each of his eyelids, her stomach pushed against his groin, the hard outline of his own arousal is trapped between them, undeniable in shape and form.

He knows the exact second Kate feels it for herself, when she stills over his face, her lips pressed to the crease between his brows and then she slowly allows her body to slide over him once more, pressing every inch of her pubic bone and taut abdomen down across the hot length of him.

Castle's worried he might actually weep if she keeps up this torture any longer.

"Please, relax?" she whispers, her mouth now level with his once more, her breath puffing warmly across his cheeks, as she brushes swollen, pink flesh over his own damp lips.

"You're…you're not exactly making this easy for me" he stammers out, fingers digging into the swell of her hips to keep her still for a second until his over-aroused brain can catch up.

"Whatever made you think I was easy, Castle?" she grins, and he chuckles, loving that she can mix the seriousness of what they're now doing (and what exactly _are_ they doing) with the humor they both enjoy so much.

"No. Not you. Never a sentiment I'd associate with you, detective," he agrees, letting her kiss him lightly again, before she turns her head to the side and rubs her cheek against his, a soft, contented sigh escaping her lips.

* * *

"Did I make you feel better yet?" she asks, voice just this side of shy and insecure.

"Ah, was that your plan? Get poor Castle so worked up that he forgets his woes?" he smirks, kissing her back since she seems so willing.

"Not exactly my plan," she confesses, dropping her head to kiss the warm, smooth expanse of his chest while he clasps his hands against her lower back, holding her to him in tight connection.

"Care to elaborate?"

"This," she whispers, flicking her tongue over one of his nipples, making him hiss out a burst of pleasure when she blows cool air against the hardened, damp little pebble of flesh, rolling him fully onto his back this time, while she hovers over him.

She slinks further down his body, the silk satin cups of her bra skidding over his upper chest, and he's forced to let go of her waist and hips, seeking out her slender arms instead, since he's not letting go, on pain of death, now that he has her at last.

Her tongue in painting a long line down his sternum, and his abdominals contract, part knee-jerk response and partly in vanity, since he desperately wants to look good for her, all too aware of toned, fit-looking Dr. Motorcycle boy she just dumped for him.

Her tongue presses flat over his bellybutton, tickling when a little bubble of air escapes around the sides, and then she swirls once around its circumference, and begins kissing and licking her way down over the dark line of hair that extends upwards from the waist of his boxer shorts.

And sweet Jesus, he can hardly breathe.

His erection fits perfectly into her cleavage, and Castle's brain is fuzzing in and out when she slides upwards again, dragging his sensitive tip against the silk of his own underwear, and God, she knows just exactly what she's doing to him right now. He can tell by the devious glint she sees in her eyes when she looks directly at him, as if to say, '_yes, this. I'm doing this for you._'

* * *

He grasps her by the backs of her arms and hauls her up onto his chest, gritting his teeth as her stomach presses against his rock-hard erection for a fraction of a second too long.

"Getting a little impatient?" she asks, teasing the side of his mouth with a quick dart of her clever tongue.

"Kate, are you sure…?" he grits out, scrunching up his face so adorably as he awaits her reply that she laughs, right in his face she laughs.

"W…what?" he squeaks, eyes flying wide-open.

"_You_," she grins, kissing the tip of his nose. "Never thought I'd have to persuade Richard Castle to have sex with me."

He gasps, hands still cupping her elbows, as she grinds her hips in a lazy, circular motion against his pelvis.

"_Are you sure?_" he repeats, face full of seriousness, and evidently he _is_ looking for her permission, as he tries to mask his own overwhelming need to give her a little space, a little time to move from one relationship to the next without the two almost indecently over-lapping.

"I have wanted this for far too long. I know why you might doubt me, Castle. But…honestly, there's no need. I want _you_. _Only you_," she whispers against his cheek, fingers stroking gently at the fine hair on the nape of his neck, and he sighs in relief and hugs her to him.

* * *

He opens his eyes when he feels her hand slip between their bodies to cup him through his underwear. She presses the firm line of his hardness against the curve of her palm, stroking up and down the rock-hard length of him, and then she swirls her thumb over his tip, soaking the fine fabric of his underwear with the glossy bead of arousal she finds waiting on the sensitive head of his penis.

"Think we can take these off?" she asks, dipping her fingertip suggestively under the elastic of the waistband, and tugging experimentally.

Castle swallows thickly, and he sees Kate tilt her head to the side to read his face, clearly wondering at his reluctance.

"Are you okay with this?" she asks, mirroring his concern.

He nods, mutely.

"You just seem…you sure you're okay?"

"It's our first time, Kate. I just want it to be perfect," he confesses, watching her eyes soften, the tiny creases at the sides widening out when she smiles tenderly at him.

"Hey," she sings softly, kissing his cheek. "This is you and me. How could it be anything but? After all this time, all the waiting, all the…_wanting_," she confesses, and he shakes his head, can't get over her words. "We're finally in the same place, on the same page, Castle. How can that not make it perfect?"

"God, I love you," he whispers, claiming her mouth once more, forcing his tongue roughly between her lips in a facsimile of what he so badly wants to do to her body.

But there's time for that, he hopes. Time for claiming; for hot, fast, dirty sex. This first time is about a gentle exploration; a warm '_hello, this is what my love for you feels like against your skin'_. This is way beyond polite introductions, but comes well before, '_honey let's get naked, I'm feeling horny_.'

He lies back and lets her run her fingers under the waistband of his underwear, his arms pillowed behind his head, his body exposed to the cool bedroom air from his head to below his waist. She's kneeling between his thighs, and he closes his eyes and arches his back when she slides the silk shorts under his muscled rear, and then on down his thighs, before he kicks them off for himself in the warm, dark cavern beneath the covers.

Kate sits back on her heels and shamelessly stares at his naked body. Castle feels his erection twitch at the unwavering boldness with which she's assessing his physique. When it gets to be too much, he reaches for her hand and tugs, toppling her onto his chest.

Kate lets out a startled, tinkling peel of laughter. But the joke is on him when she immediately cups him in her hand and lightly strokes his softness with long caressing fingers, eliciting the filthiest groan either of them have ever heard.

"Okay, just for that, these are coming off," he declares, finally finding some game from somewhere.

"All you ever had to do was ask," Kate teases, allowing him to unhook the clasp on her bra, and then ease the straps down her arms.

She tosses the garment somewhere far into the corner of the room, looking liberated and pleased with herself to finally be free of it, but all Castle can do is stare.

He cups her right breast in his palm, sweeping upwards over her dark, swollen areola with his thumb, watching with a stab to his groin when her nipple puckers into a hard little peak at his barest touch, loving how her body is responding to him already.

Kate guides his other hand to her left breast, and he repeats the favor, reverently worshiping this undeniable glory of her womanhood, her femininity. She leans forward over him, offering her breast to him, and he moans aloud when he takes the soft flesh and hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking the nub against his hard palate and then swirling around the tight peak with his tongue, until Kate's moans of pleasure fill the heavy air, and she runs her hands through his hair, arching her head back so that he can see the long, elegant slope of her neck exposed above him. And he wants to reach up and kiss that too, wants to plant kisses, to lick and suck and taste and touch all of her at once; one great hot mess of desire and lust. But he fights to control these urges, determined to focus on them, on this shared experience of their first time, leaving the push and pull of their separate desires for later.

* * *

He can feel Kate getting impatient again, her body grinding into him more forcefully when she straddles his lap, her knees either side of his hips.

He cups her rear, slides his hands back and forwards over the twin mounds of her ass, filling his palms with smooth, blueberry colored silk.

"Still holding out on me, Kate," he teases, knowing that she stopped holding out on him a good two days ago. "These need to come off," he tells her, running his thumbs under the elastic that spans her sacrum, riding low on her hips.

"All you had to do was ask," she teases again, kneeling up, bracing one hand on his shoulder so that she can bring her knees together again and then shimmy her underwear down over her own thighs.

Castle settles a hand on the small of her back as she does so, boldly following the decent of her underwear over her ass and down the back of her thighs with his bare hands on her bare skin. She is so silky smooth, and his eyes blur until he closes them, so overwhelmed by just feeling her right now, that sight becomes one sense to much to handle.

When he opens his eyes again, she's kneeling up on the bed between his thighs, gloriously naked, and he gapes at her spectacular body, and just can't find it in himself to care that she can see just exactly what she's doing to him. She is truly beyond his imagining and now she's his, offering herself to him, and he wonders if life will ever get better than this.

When she reaches for his hand and guides it between her legs, he feels his face and chest flushing so hot that he's worried he looks like an adolescent teenage boy about to lose his virginity. The hair between her legs is soft and silky to the touch, and when he parts her swollen lips with his fingers, he watches Kate's eyes flutter closed and her head fall back as she succumbs to the ecstasy of finally having him touch her in such an intimate way.

She rocks her hips over his stiffened fingers, but when he swirls his thumb experimentally over her clit, she grasps his wrist and stops him.

"I want to do this right," she tells him, lowering herself to the bed beside him. "I want you inside me, Castle. Need to feel you moving inside me," she says, cupping his cheeks and surging her mouth against his as she grasps his far shoulder and tugs him over her so that she's the one lying underneath.

* * *

Castle holds himself up on fully straightened arms, letting his eyes slowly caress and roam all over her naked body.

"You are…you're almost beyond words, Kate," he tells her, brushing hair off her cheek. "I feel as if I'm dreaming, and if I am I never want to wake up."

"We're not dreaming," she promises, smiling up at him. "Let me feel you?" she asks, sliding a hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer, reaching up to claim his beautiful mouth.

His erection pulses between them, demanding attention, as he lowers himself to meet her kiss, and when his tip nudges her entrance she hums with pleasure. She takes him in her hand to direct him more clearly, rubbing his glistening, swollen head back and forward through her slick flesh, as Castle stares into her eyes and she shivers, and he wonders if maybe she feels the same as him: that this is the hottest, most intense thing he's ever felt because it has been so long desired and yet too long denied.

"You're so wet," he says with sheer awe, letting his sticky fingers caress her once more, leaving her breathless, aching and moaning.

"God, I'm so ready. Can we please…?" she pleads, sliding her free hand round to cup his ass, urging him closer.

"Kate, you're shaking," he says, feeling her tremble when he leans back down to kiss her.

"So are you," she points out, as they arch against one another again, nearly there but not quite all the way.

"Please?" she begs again. "I need you inside me, Castle."

"God, I dreamed I'd hear you say those words one day," he confesses, in a breathless rush of honesty that makes Kate laugh out loud.

"You just heard them. Don't make me beg, it's undignified," she grins, finally guiding him towards her entrance with a firm hand.

* * *

When he slowly pushes into her, her body stretching to make room for his hard length, they both cry out in pleasure, eyes snapping open to find the others' aroused gaze, widening as they experience this intense, new sensation together, amazed when they both realize just how badly the other wants this too.

"Oh, shit, yes. That feels so good," sighs Kate, letting her body adjust to him. They both feel the second when her muscles flutter and tremble around his body where they are joined, and it brings a slight smile to their faces; like a secret shared.

Kate moves first, a slight, upward rocking motion that demands a small, experimental downward thrust of Castle's hips in response.

"Don't be careful with me," she scolds, running her hands up his arms and across his broad shoulders. "I won't break, Castle."

He laughs nervously, thrusting his hips more firmly into her this time, watching her stomach muscles contract as she curls up to meet him, as curse escaping her lips when he penetrates as deeply as he can go, the very tip of his hardness hitting soft tender flesh.

"Again," she encourages, her mouth wet and open against his shoulder now, one leg crooked around the back of his thigh to keep him tightly pressed against her so that they move easily together.

"So eager, Kate," he teases, slowing his thrusting motion to circle his hips playfully.

"Four years," she confesses in a hot rush of shame. "Four years I've been wondering what this would feel like."

"Shit, don't say things like that," he growls, screwing his eyes tightly closed to hold himself back from the edge. "Confessions like that could well make me come and I want this to last."

"Show me," she whispers, arching up into him again and then withdrawing slowly so that the entire length of his cock slides free of her, save for the very tip, teasing every nerve ending until she aches for release.

"Oh, Jeez, you're too good at this. I should have known. Not much Kate Beckett can't do," grits Castle, more than keeping up with her.

"I told you you had no idea," she smirks, kneading her fingers firmly into the flesh of his well-muscled ass in time with the obscene rhythm they've just picked up, grinding and thrusting at the same time; screwing actually in common parlance, thinks Castle.

The sensations get more and more intense as they both let go, awkwardness overtaken by the realization that they're both as much into this as each other.

Their bodies start moving furiously in time, hips pounding against the bed in a frantic rhythm, grunts and moans filling the air along with the unmistakably sweet, musky, animal smell of sex.

Sweat slicks their skin as they slide over one another again and again, tension building, building all the while, eyes locked in a dangerous dance, each willing the other to jump off that cliff of ecstasy first.

* * *

A violent shiver runs through Kate's body, and Castle hisses when she reflexively tightens her inner muscles around him, riding his penis hard.

"My god, you're good at this too," Kate hisses, licking her parched lips, the dry air catching at the back of her throat.

"We make quite a team," agrees Castle, pinning her arms above her head and then leaning down to attack her glistening neck with his tongue, soaking up the salty beads of sweat he finds pooling below her throat.

"I think I'm gonna come," moans Kate urgently, whining when he slows down for her.

"Don't…no…no, Castle don't stop. Not yet. When you feel me coming, okay? Slow down then, let me ride it out?" she pants, and he knows, knows with just these few words of advice from Kate that his sex life just entered the stratosphere.

He gets so completely turned on by a woman who knows what she wants and can ask for it without embarrassment. He's not the least bit surprised that this woman is Kate Beckett; now his Kate.

"Let go for me. Let go, Kate," he whispers, ducking down to worship her breast, drawing the swell of pale flesh into his mouth, sucking hard on her puckered nipple, fingers swirling lightly over the taut skin at her ribs.

She arches up into him, changing the angle just slightly with the barest shift of her hips, and that's all she needs – his hot, wet mouth on her breast, one hand tangling in her hair, his penis stroking deep inside her, and it's all over.

She shudders, curses out, "Oh God, Castle!" in surprise, as the violent wave of her orgasm breaks over her, making her hips stutter against his, all fluidity and rhythm lost to the unleashing of a flood of heat, a spike of intense, delicious pain, and a hum of ridiculously happy vibrations that make her laugh out helplessly at the shock of this tide of pure bliss.

"Good?" whispers Castle, kissing her soundly on the lips once she is able to open her eyes again.

Wordlessly, she arches into him again, squeezing out the last tiny vestiges of pleasure from her body and his, moaning an '_Mmm_' of approval against his lips.

"You feel sensational. That was amazing," he tells her, as he watches her come back down from her high.

* * *

Kate breathes heavily for a second or two, sucking in air until she can get her breath back, and then she lets out a quiet laugh.

"Actually, I'd say it's you who feels particularly sensational," she tells him, no longer afraid to stroke his ego, since she knows how vulnerable he has shown himself to be where she's concerned.

"Let me be the judge," he growls, giving her a moment to rest, easing himself all the way back inside her when she flexes her fingers against his rear again, drawing him ever deeper.

"Tell me what you fantasized about?" she whispers against his cheek, scratching her nails lightly across his back, feeling him shiver beneath her gentle touch.

Castle turns his head quickly, lifting it out from the crook of her neck to find her face. She looks serenely beautiful – cheeks flushed pink, hair a tumble of damp curls around her face and strewn wantonly over his pillow, eyes wide and dark in the flicker of the candle he lit for them.

"You want to hear my fantasies?" he croaks, swallowing down rising panic.

Because where to begin in his own Proustian, multi-volume, search for lost time or remembrance of things past? That exquisite pleasure which invades his senses when he allows himself to think freely, to let the very essence of Kate fill his mind without forcing the thought in any intellectual way; just feeling, absorbing, reliving everything that she means to him.

Does he begin with the day he met her and started longing for more, cataloguing every nuance of movement, expression, quirk, spark of keen intelligence and rush to ire that he seemed to draw out of her; more reaction than he was certain she had shown anyone in a long time.

They fizzed together from the moment they met, sparked, fed off one another, banished the loneliness they couldn't yet own up to, made the other more complete; a better version of themselves. Only it took until now to fully reveal how much better they could be as one.

He has fantasized about this moment time without number, both innocently, in day dreams filled with romantic thoughts of love and caring, and alone in his darkened bedroom at night, when thoughts of her pale naked skin scalded his blood, his own flesh burning hot and heavy in his hand. Or in his shower, when washing away then end to another case meant his mind filled with the scent of his partner and a longing for what might have been if only she'd stayed for one more drink and he'd had the courage to ask her for more.

So where to begin with this tale that he will unravel for her over the years to come if granted the gift of time to do so? With love or lust, hopeless longing or heated desire?

"Did you want to touch me?" her voice prompts, the words curling like a wisp of smoke close to his ear before vanishing as if imagined.

But she's watching him, hazel eyes all knowing, waiting for his reply.

"God, yes," he confides, knowing he is ruined by her forever now and so secrets are pointless; she's too good at reading him not to work it out.

"Where, Castle? Tell me," she encourages, beginning to slowly rock against him, building back a steady rhythm that elevates his heart rate and excites him all over again.

"Everywhere," he blurts inelegantly, choking back a bubble of nervous laughter at the truth he's just shared.

"I…I used to watch you from the break room, sitting in front of the murder board with your back to me, Kate. You tried so hard, and it looked so lonely at first. Late nights, too little sleep, always driving yourself on for others."

"Go on," she says quietly, touching his cheek, not quite expecting this, but loving that low storyteller's cadence to his voice, the exquisite rumble passing between their joined bodies.

"I used to fantasize about making you stop, taking you home with me. Running you a bath, then stretching you out on my sheets, your limbs long, your muscles warmed by the water, and then I would drizzle scented oil all over your skin and massage away all of the pain and disappointment, drive ever last bad memory out of your knotted muscles. I thought I knew every last inch of you, until today," he says, brushing his shadowed jaw against her shoulder.

"But?" asks Kate, frowning. "I sense a but."

"You're so much more beautiful, flawless, soft, willing, dangerous, honest, passionate and extraordinary than the Kate in my dreams. You're real. You're _you_, and I'm so hopelessly in love with you that I don't understand how I got it so wrong all this time."

"What did you get wrong?"

"I _know you_, Kate. And yet tonight, being here with you…it's as if we're meeting for the very first time."

She smiles at him, cups his jaw, a sadness settling in her chest that they waited so long for this; lonely even when they were with other people.

"Like love at first sight?" she suggests, appealing to the best that this thought suggests; the lightest truth it holds. "Un coup de foudre?"

"Yes, that. But also like having a photographic memory," he tells her, eyes darting over her face, as if absorbing every part of her to store away forever. "Once seen, never forgotten. An overwhelm of emotions and sensations and…all of it is you."

"You say such beautiful things for a man who writes about murder for a living," she points out playfully.

"You are such a beautiful creature for a woman who solves them for a living. We make a good match."

"We're where we're supposed to be…finally," she tells him, brushing her lips over his cheek.

She tilts her head to the side, her eyes tenderly caressing his face; a face as familiar as her own, one that she loves with equal care.

"Make love to me? Please?" she asks, shifting beneath him once more, her body liquid and pliant in his arms.

"You only ever had to ask, Kate," he tells her, before kissing her deeply, sharing the same air, lungs burning, but too engrossed in one another to pull apart.

* * *

They build on what little they have learned tonight, this newly acquired knowledge of each other's bodies, stoking the fire between them.

"You blow my mind, you know that?" he says huskily, arms banding around her back, holding her against his chest as his thrusts increase powerfully, driving them both to distraction.

Every time he pumps into her, Kate can feel the unbelievable strength in his thigh and buttock muscles, and it's turning her on even more; how physical he is, how virile. Her body responds quickly to his heightened pleasure when she wraps her long legs around his back, allowing him a better angle to penetrate deeper.

"So close," he eventually gasps, shifting his hands to her hips to control their movement better, his thrusts dropping out of rhythm every so often as he flirts with the razor edge of pleasure and pain.

"Your turn," she whispers sexily into his ear, nails digging crescents into his skin, branding him as hers now - hers and no one else's.

"Kate. Kate, I'm coming," he cries, gripping her tightly, bucking his hips frantically one last time before stilling, his body stuttering to a halt, out of his control now.

She feels the slight flutter when he spills inside her, the urgent pump of his undeniably male biology, and then she lets go, follows him over the edge into free-falling oblivion, certain in the knowledge that he will be waiting at the bottom to catch her, as sure as night follows day.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, so that was long! One more should wrap it up. Give them time to catch their breath. _

_Thanks to Marcel Proust for the title to this chapter and the borrowed concept of 'involuntary memory' explored in his seven volume novel: "A La Recherche du Temps Perdu." That guy could go on even longer than me! Bet he used to say, 'Just one more book ought to cover it.' LOL Liv_


	7. Chapter 7 All In Good Time

Disclaimer: Still no way we are ever seeing this on ABC. I promise to return the characters undamaged, but maybe a little more relaxed...and with big smiles on their faces.

* * *

**_Warning: Another M rated chapter. So unless you work from home...you know the drill. Delayed gratification!_**

* * *

**_Setting Up For Something_**

_Chapter 7: All In Good Time_

"Kate? Hey, Kate?" sings Castle, ever so gently, smoothing his hand over her ribcage and down across her stomach, his fingertip touch feather light and tentative.

She's lying on her side, the long, pale line of her back calling to him, and when he leans over her, he finds that her eyes are open and she's smiling. She's smiling like a crazy person.

"You okay?" he asks, answering her grin with one of his own; one of the crazy, love-struck variety she seems to be specializing in right now.

"Mmm," she purrs, rolling over to face him. "More than," she admits, stretching and yawning.

Castle watches her elongate her body with all the feline grace of a big cat, and then she sinks sleepily into the mattress, her body liquid and languid again.

"Want one of my shirts now?" he offers, ready to get up and fetch the t-shirt and boxers he picked out for her earlier, before she just shed all of her clothes onto his floor and got into his bed in only her underwear, and god how he's turned on by this forthright, 'I know what I want and I'm going to ask for it' Kate Beckett.

She looks up at him, her hazel eyes softened by the sleepiness that's tugging at both of them after three long, hard, punishing days and one round of amazing, first time sex.

"No clothes," she insists, scooting closer to him, dropping a kiss to his shoulder and then resting her head on the same spot.

Castle laughs, surprised, but delighted all the same.

"You want us to sleep naked? Even after the freezer? Is that what you're saying?" he asks, sliding his arm around her bare back, feeling her shiver under his gentle touch.

"You catch on quick…for a writer," she adds, laughing quietly when he reacts with indignation to her little poke at his profession. Too tired to do more than chuckle, revenge out the window for now.

"Then, how about we try and get some sleep?" he asks, kissing her forehead, cradling her warmth against him.

"That be nice," slurs Kate, already coming close to slipping under.

He smiles down at her, this beautiful, sensual woman in his arms. His partner, now his…whatever they're going to call this. And he feels so blessed.

"Sleep, Kate," he says, carding his fingers through her hair, feeling her weight increase against him as she slips free of consciousness and finally drifts off.

* * *

Despite the physical demands of the last few days, the stress, the lack of rest, emotional upset, and a mild case of hypothermia, Castle is too wired, far too excited for sleep. The best way he can describe it is the most clichéd. He does indeed feel as if all his Christmasses have come at once.

Kate Beckett _loves_ him. She loves him enough to dump her successful, good looking, surgeon boyfriend for him. And now that he knows how good they truly are together when they're being open and honest with each other, nothing is going to stop him from protecting and nurturing this precious, blossoming, special relationship that they have begun to build.

He's buzzing with thoughts, his mind swamped by a flood of ideas, possibilities, scenarios where their choices and reactions can be different from now on. Just as Kate said, they can be there for one another after a rough case, a crappy meeting, a fight with Alexis. And bye-bye writer's block, he thinks, remembering all those nights he would come home from the precinct intending to rattle out another chapter, only to find his brain shuttered by the final image left behind on his retinas of Kate leaving to go out on a date with Dr. Motorcycle Boy; that happy, relaxed look on her face that he so badly wanted to put there himself. Or worse still, rare moments like the other day when we witnessed Josh and Kate talking quietly together by her desk, him tenderly kissing her on the forehead before he left, the scene like a knife to his heart, his jealousy killing all creativity until space and time and a few more hours spent alone with his muse could even him out again.

Well, no more of that, he thinks, smoothing his fingers over the soft skin of her back as she lies tucked up against him, so loving and trusting.

* * *

"Castle, get some sleep," she mutters, her eyes blinking open momentarily.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," he whispers, sliding further down under the covers to lie next to her.

"I can hear you thinking," she grins, cracking one eye open.

"I'll stop. I promise," he replies, kissing her cheek. "Now sleep, Kate."

"Only if you do too?"

"Okay. But I'm…I'm just a little wired," he admits.

"You're excited, aren't you?" she grins, resting her chin on her hands so that she can see him more clearly.

"Wh…? How did you…?"

"Come on. You're not the only one in this, Castle," she chides playfully, pressing her lips to his chest and then swirling her tongue over his salty skin.

"You keep on amazing me today, Kate. You know that?"

"Just today?" she teases.

"_No_. There are the last three years to account for too. But today…amazing," he admits, shaking his head.

"And there will be tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. So, get some sleep. Please? I'm not going anywhere, Castle. I promise," she tells him, arching up to kiss his mouth.

"You suddenly know just the right thing to say to me," he confesses, tilting his head to look at her, trying to fathom the change, the difference, and how it came about.

"I…I think I always knew the right things to say to you. I just lacked the courage to say them until now. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he tells her sincerely. "It was worth the wait."

* * *

They do sleep eventually, though not quite the full eight hours, since it's actually closer to ten. And so it's daylight when they finally wake up.

A soft, yellow-grey light filters into Castle's masculine, rust-colored bedroom, easing them up from slumber with none of the sharp intensity a sunlit morning might demand.

Kate stirs first, stretching, her long limbs skating smoothly over the luxurious bedding.

Castle responds to her presence in his bed immediately, his brain tuned to high alert still where his partner is concerned, a small, dark space in his mind not yet satisfied that she's fully committed to this, since it's too new, too raw, and so fearfully wonderful that he's terrified of losing her again.

"Morning," whispers Kate, wrapping her body around him like a marsupial in a tree; her arms encompassing his torso, cheek pressed against the center of his back, one leg thrown over his thigh, the other knee nudging into the back of his knees.

"Good morning, detective," he purrs back, the pleased smile she draws from him already evident in his voice. "Sleep well?"

"Yes. You don't snore. So that's a relief," she giggles, tickling him when she teases her fingers against his stomach.

"You on the other hand…" he begins, plotting a little revenge.

"Me on the other hand, _what?_" demands Kate, letting go of him immediately and edging away.

"Oh, no. Come back here," says Castle, rolling over to stop her escape, chasing her across his large bed.

He scoops her up and drags her back on top of him, while they both laugh like a couple of kids, and he wonders if anything ever felt this good, this right, before?

She gives up fighting, lets her body settle on top of his, relaxing her full weight on top of him, and when their laughter subsides, she just stares at him.

Castle is doing the exact same thing, absorbing every new detail of this previously unseen side to Kate; the private, stripped bare side, quite literally, that he's never gotten a chance to see before.

Her eyes look a little puffy, from too much sleep or too little, he's not sure. But there's a light in them he's pretty certain he's never seen before – a spark of joy, a new happiness, and he could just stare at this vision all day, though he doesn't think she'll let him get away with it for much longer.

* * *

"So, brave new world," she says, laying her head to one side, her ear pressed to his chest as if listening to his heart beating.

"Brave new world indeed," agrees Castle, running his fingers up and down her spine, cherishing her even with this simple touch.

"How…?" Kate pauses, and he watches her brow furrow as she figures out how to ask him whatever it is that's on her mind.

"How what? What's worrying you?"

"No…not worrying exactly. Just…how do you want to handle this?"

"Handle _you_ mean you?" he jokes. "As frequently and in as many different ways as possible," he chuckles, wrapping his arms even tighter around her for emphasis and then tugging the covers over both of them, a chill still lingering deep in his bones even today.

"Castle," she warns, though the smile on her face might be ruining the effect she's going for with the serious tone to her voice.

"I'm guessing you mean at work?" he sighs.

"I mean with everyone. Alexis, Martha, my dad, Lanie…? Ryan and Esposito are gonna flip. Montgomery? Oh god, _Montgomery_," she says, covering her mouth with her hand, as if just suddenly remembering her boss.

"Kate. Kate, _woah!_" says Castle, stroking the back of her head to get her attention and slow her down, his nails lightly scratching her scalp to soothe her.

"What?" she asks, eyes snapping back into focus on his face.

"I'm pretty sure Montgomery figured things out by himself."

"What? _How?_" she asks in surprise.

"Kate, he overhead us arguing in that tent, and then yesterday…he told me to take a couple of days off and then pointedly said that he'd be telling you to do the same. He meant for me to sort things out with you. I'm pretty sure of it."

"I did see him watching us last night when you were attempting to resist my charms," she smirks, surging up to steak a kiss before he can protest his innocence.

"Resist your charms? Are you crazy? Nah, I was just playing hard to get," he counters, laughing when Kate groans and rolls her eyes.

"So, what do we do?"

"Family's number one I guess, for both of us. If Montgomery is matchmaking I'm thinking your job is safe and I can keep going to work with you as long as we're discreet. Think you can keep your hands off me at work, detective?" he asks, moving his hips suggestively against hers.

"I think I managed it for the last three years, lover-boy," she smirks back, beginning to move her body against his, joining the erotic little dance he's started up; eyes locked onto each other's faces, skin beginning to flush, heart rates starting to pick up speed.

"Ah, but you hadn't sampled the goods back then, Beckett," he reminds her, taking her hand and guiding it down between his legs.

Kate bursts out laughing, pressing her cheek into the crook of his neck as her face goes hot pink and she shakes on top of him with the force of her own giggling, massaging the area she's been directed towards nonetheless - an area that has suddenly started to grow in size and importance.

"God, your ego is…"

"_Bigger_ than you anticipated?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at her and pressing himself against her palm for emphasis.

"Just _stop_," she begs, running her tongue and teeth along the rough line of his shadowed jaw to distract him from the inevitable 'size' jokes she knows he's going to try and make; shamelessly looking for compliments and praise as ever.

"Make me," he growls, lunging for her neck while she squeals.

* * *

Kate arches against the exquisite sharpness of his stubbled jaw brushing against the soft, tender skin of her neck, counterpointed by the warm, gentle suction of his mouth on her flesh. He watches these competing sensations drag a moan of pleasure from her throat, and she stretches and opens to him, his blood singing again as he witnesses this new desperate desire his partner has for him; one they have so recently unleashed.

"God, I need you," she rasps, opening her legs and grinding against him, one hand slipping behind his neck as she surges upwards, pauses briefly to adjust and then sinks down onto him, shivering when he pushes all the way up inside her.

"So I see," he grits out, growing even harder by the second.

Castle's eyes close without permission, soaking in the magical feeling of having Kate's aroused body surrounding him, demanding things from him that he is only too happy to give her.

"Tell me why we waited so long to do this?" he asks, cupping the back of her head and then teasing her lips apart with his tongue, every part of his body tingling and aching as she slowly withdraws her hips from the cradle of his and then chases back to find him again; always deeper, deeper, deeper.

Kate curses when she feels the powerful way he strokes inside her with every act of withdrawal and every needy reconnection; his erection hitting just the right spot without much guidance or effort from either of them.

"I honestly don't know," she replies, teasing his earlobe again with the wicked play of her mouth over his soft flesh, while Castle lavishes attention on the curve of her neck. "But, oh shit, Castle," she cries, shivering bodily again, "I'm so glad we finally did."

* * *

He rolls them onto their sides, and Kate athletically tucks her lower leg high around Castle's upper back, while her other leg drapes down low along the bed, brushing alongside his with every rock of their hips, and then she leans out away from him across the mattress, so that he gets to watch her, gloriously naked, stretched outwards from the point where they are joined, drawing him in and out of her body with power and grace and so much ease.

But he needs more contact, doesn't like the cold vacuum of air and space that has opened up between them, and as much as he is excited by seeing her magnificent body laid out on his sheets, writhing against him, he needs to feel her warm skin caressing his, needs full body contact.

So he turns her onto her back, moves over her, lets her be the one underneath again, watches with satisfaction when she smiles widely in pleasure and arches her back to meet him when she feels the increased weight he can put behind each thrust of his hips from this position. So eager, so willing, so desperate to have all of him.

Her body is tightly wound around his, milking him hard, her muscles like the fierce grip of a fist around his erection, driving him to distraction.

"Kate," he shudders, stroking to the side of her right eye, brushing a curl of hair away from her temple and then chasing it with the light press of his lips. "Look at me," he asks, watching her smile grow when she opens her eyes again to look up at him.

"Feels good?" he asks, hungrily roaming her face with his eyes, soaking up every last flicker of reaction to his movements and touch.

"So good," she replies breathlessly, rocking into him again, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, sweat beginning to bead along her hairline.

"Tell me what you like," he urges, so eager to learn all of her. "Do you like this?" he asks, nudging her legs wider apart with his knee and then trailing his nails lightly up and down her inner thigh where he knows the skin to be especially sensitive, inching higher and higher towards the main source of pleasure.

"God, torture," she grins, hissing, but exposing even more of her skin to encourage him. "Sweet torture."

"And how about this?" he asks, pressing the flat of his tongue against her nipple and rolling it slowly so that the rough texture sets her alight, mimicking the same movement with his right palm over her left breast, working the two stiff peaks together.

"Harder," she begs, picking up speed with her hips when he sucks her nipple strongly between his lips, and pinches the other one between his fingertips, watching her jerk as if a jolt of electricity had just passed through her core and sparks have formed behind her eyes.

"Yes," she hisses, nodding and licking her lips, holding him tighter to her. "More."

Castle transfers the attentions of his tongue and teeth to her other breast, and Kate slows a little, carding her fingers through his hair, and he watches her floating in a sea of pure sensation, adrift under his touch, the scene filling him with so much pleasure.

"You make love to me as if we've been doing this forever," she sighs, drawing his attention with the surprising honesty of her words. "As if you just get me, Castle. Just like you always got me."

"You're no quick study, believe me," he reassures her, needing to let her know how special and unique she is. How extraordinary. "I'm just devoted to my subject."

"I can tell," she laughs, and he nips a little too hard and then apologizes when her nails dig into his scalp in warning.

* * *

"Anything else I can do for you, ma'am?" he sings, stealing a deep kiss that pulls the breath from her chest with the delicious pulse of his tongue against hers, moving steadily in time with the glide of their hips; a hot, dirty exploration of her mouth that mimics the behavior of certain other body parts.

"Touch me? Stroke me, Castle," she whispers, her face growing hot, as he watches her anticipate what his fingers will do to her.

"As you wish," he grins, rising up onto his forearms, biceps bulging, to reach between them.

He parts his index and middle fingers so that they ride between the vee he creates at the place where they are joined to one another, her soft flesh slick and slippery with their combined juices. Then his thumb joins the party, circling her tight, swollen little bundle of nerves, barely brushing the tiny bud, but feeling her reaction instantly when he hits just the right pressure, just the right spot.

"That's it," he encourages, "give me more, Kate. Show me what this does to you."

"Oh, fuck, Castle," she chokes, grinding against his hand, tightening her inner muscles obscenely.

He's never felt anyone be able to work him so hard before, and it seriously arouses and thrills him, driving him ever closer to the edge.

"God, you're amazing," he cannot stop himself from saying, not for the first time sounding completely in awe of her.

"Touch me again?" she asks, guiding his hand back down over both of them. "Lightly, circle like before. I'm…oh, shit, yeah, like that. Mmm," she whines, her teeth clenched together, eyes flickering closed. "So, close."

"Watch me, Kate," he tells her, drawing deeply from her mouth to get her to open her eyes. "Watch me enter you," he says, stretching high above her again, arms taut, as he rocks his hips in and out, slowly curling his abdominals, and she stares just as he tells her to do, watching hypnotized as his cock glides in and out of her body, her eyes glittering darkly, hazed over with lust.

Her chest flushes when he speeds up, seeing how hooked he's gotten her, how on edge she is. He laces their hands together and raises them over her head, pinning her with his hips and her arms pressed high on the pillow, exposing the wide range of pleasure points that are on offer to him now; her magnificent breasts, her soft, vulnerable neck, and her needy, hot mouth.

"I'm going to fuck you soooo slowly," he whispers in her ear, voice low, gravelly and dirty, "and then I'm going to bring to the edge, Kate, and keep you there, just _teetering_, until you beg me to let you fa…"

"_Ugh!_" she grunts out in surprise, bucking against him and then jerking uncontrollably, his body, his words and the low rasp of his voice enough to take her there instantly.

She clings to his shoulders, spasming beneath him, her face portraying the ecstasy he can feel rippling through her body.

"Not fair," she hums breathily, when she finally comes down from her orgasm, pressing her parched lips to his damp neck.

"Never said I would play fair," he says smugly, loving how she curls up against him, wants to wrap herself around him once she slides down from her own high.

And she's so wet, and still so needy, still moving slowly in time with his gentle hip movement, chasing him, nudging him when he pauses to let her catch her breath.

"Don't dare stop," she warns, falling in step with him again.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Beckett. Not now we've started something."

"Mmm, we have, haven't we," grins Kate, drawing him towards her for a kiss, moaning into his mouth when he grasps the back of her thigh and raises her leg up high on his ribcage to get deeper into this.

* * *

She uses her tongue to confuse him, and when his mind is off wandering elsewhere, she flips them, throwing him onto his back with a satisfying 'oomf', while keeping him tightly sheathed within her body.

"My turn to drive," she purrs, draping herself over his chest, hair fanning out over him, tickling his skin and driving him crazy.

Kate's thighs firmly bracket his hips, and her lips graze his ear when she whispers, "Now, is there anything I can do for _you_, Sir?"

"Shit, I think I dreamt this once," blurts Castle, his hands planted on her hips, his mind wandering when he slides them smoothly down over the twin mounds of her ass, "only I woke up before I could answer you."

"Well, unless I'm mistaken," says Kate, cleverly assessing his flushed face, "you're not sleeping now," she adds at a whisper, quickly tightening her inner muscles around him just to torture him.

"Oh, God, you're gonna kill me," gulps Castle, shuddering bodily when he grasps her hips again and thrusts upwards, long and hard, while pulling her down tightly on top of him.

"No point in that. I have plans for you," she manages to say, slowly losing her own mind to the things he's doing to both of them.

Her breast is in his mouth being slowly worshiped, after she leaned down to offer it to him, teasing him with her nipple first and then giving in when the tip of his tongue was no longer enough for her either.

"If this is the way I go, I'm in," he shudders out breathlessly. "Bring it on, Beckett."

"You only had to ask, Mr. Castle," she grins, grinding her hips in a circular motion and then rising up above him, her hands in her hair, head thrown back wantonly, before sinking down on top of him.

"Faster," he begs, holding his hands out for her, lacing their fingers together so that she can brace herself against him as she begins to ride him hard.

They last for less than sixty seconds, both of them too worked up, too crazily turned on by this push and pull of asking and giving that they've suddenly discovered the freedom to share with one another.

"Oh, God. _Kate!_" warns Castle, dropping her hands to grip her hips again, stilling her suddenly when he starts to come, thrusting upward just once more until he releases, breath held, arms trembling, his heart absolutely racing as his body lets go.

He can feel a trickle of sweat making its way down his temple, but when Kate cries out above him, her orgasm following hot on the heels of his own, all thoughts of anything un-Kate related are wiped from his mind while she flutters around him.

* * *

She slumps over his chest eventually, breathing raggedly, her skin slipping, sweat slicked, over his muscled thighs when she lets her legs slide down the bed, dropping her head heavily onto his chest.

He wraps his arms around her, lips pressed to her crown, cradling her entirely in the shelter of his larger body.

"I love you so much, Kate," he whispers faintly into her damp curls, his words little more than mouthed, brushing his cheek against her hair, his heart full to bursting with everything he is still afraid to tell her.

"It's okay to say it, Castle," she tells him, through with having him hide his feelings away, from her especially it would seem.

He clears his throat, kisses her forehead, and then tries again.

"I…I fell in love with you such a long time ago, Kate. And I hoped we might make it here some day. But saying it out loud feels like tempting fate somehow."

"No. No more hiding from this, Castle. No more fearing the worst. We faced up to the worst these last few days and look where it brought us. It brought us here. Time to look forward now."

"Okay, deal," he says sincerely, nodding. "So…if we're looking forward. Plan for today?"

"I want to go out," Kate declares, her eyes sparkling brightly when she leans on his chest to look up at him. "To the Park maybe? But definitely out. I want fresh air, I want to hold your hand in public, I want us to have a meal together and not have it be some rushed affair, squeezed between serving a warrant and interviewing a suspect. I want…I just want to be with you. I have no idea what you do on the weekend, or how you spend most evenings when you're not playing laser tag with Alexis or fending off your mother's cronies. I just want to get to know that private side we haven't been able to share with one another before. Does that make any sense?"

Castle is bowled over by her suggestions and delighted by her list of needs.

"I'd really like that too. And you know my laser tag gear is totally at your disposal, Beckett. Anytime," he jokes, rolling on top of her when she tries to tickle him, pinning her arms to the bed.

"You'll never win this game unless I want you to," she threatens him, letting her limbs go slack to lull him into a false sense of security. "You do know that, right?"

"Ah, but, Kate, now that I know how much you want _me_, there will be no more winners or losers. Only a fearsome alliance as we dive into this together."

"Keep telling yourself that, Castle," she grins, flipping him easily onto his back and then sitting astride him, her hair a wreck of sexily tangled curls falling around her shoulders and her cheeks flushed with that special, post-coital glow.

"I like the way my weekends are looking already," he laughs, the breath forced right out of his chest by this glorious vision straddling his hips, all past loneliness driven out by Kate's wonderful plan for their future.

"So…shower, my place, then the park?" she suggests, rocking slowly above him, her hips beginning an erotic rumba he's not even sure she's aware of yet.

"Eventually," grins Castle, drawing her down to meet his waiting mouth, stroking the sensitive flare of her tailbone with the gentlest touch of his fingertips until he feels her shiver with pleasure, adding this delicate spot to his 'Kate Beckett Encyclopedia of Erotica'; a study he intends to make last a lifetime.

"Eventually, Kate. All in good time…"

* * *

_A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed that round up. I could go on forever, as I've said before (no dirty pun intended for the reader who spotted one the last time). But I think it's time for us all to move on. Thank you once again to Corlando for this amazing prompt. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it._

_And what about the Valentine's Ep! If you haven't seen it yet, you are in for a treat. _

_Thank you for riding the 'Liv Train' with me once again. We're about to pull into the station. Mind the gap when you depart the train and don't forget to take all of your belongings with you. Until next time…au revoir! Liv _


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